Dissolution of Arms
by Eerie
Summary: AU. Beyond the stars, another is born. But what role do D and his nightmares have with this mysterious half-breed and the demons drawn to him? Together they must overcome the forces aligned against them to prevent the restoration of an ancient evil.
1. A New Life

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

Warnings: Angst, Blood, Death, m/m eroticism in later chapters

Author's Note: This story takes place after the "Bloodlust" anime story (not really counting the funeral scene at the very end). I've sadly never been given the good grace to read the novels by Hideyuki Kikuchi, so this story has nothing to do with them.

Disclaimer: I understand that I'm a seriously deprived and perverted fangirl who makes no claim of the ownership of the characters or the original ideas of this series. No infringements or profits were considered. However, my original characters are my own.

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

The bright white flare in the sky shimmered like a celestial body rising from the Earth toward the heavens, slowly growing smaller and fainter against the cold ether. Dark eyes watched its path steadily, scarcely blinking despite the light of the morning sun that bathed the crimson dawn an almost painful blue to his sensitive nerves. He could hear the blonde woman beside him unconsciously vocalizing her hopes for the ship to make it safely, but he knew not what to feel at that moment.

He let them go.

But why? Was it the envy that flowered from his human heart at the sight of them? A vampire and a human overcoming the overbearing odds against them in the genuine love that they shared was something completely new to the dhampire. So wrapped in each other that time and reality ceased to exist for them. He had to admit that vampires like Meier were a rarity that he could honestly say he met once every few hundred years, if not more. And D knew without a doubt that another like he himself would be born into the cursed life forever because of it. Something he had always felt driven by his very being to prevent.

And he had just allowed it.

The glimmer in the sky faded to a pinpoint as it broke the Earth's atmosphere and D all at once fell back to reality at the feel of his steed's saddle being shifted heavily beneath him. He allowed Leila to mount in front of him on her own accord. A small smirk tugged invisibly at his lips over her haughty attitude that D couldn't help but find some amusement in.

Leila adjusted herself and waited. When nothing happened, she cast back a questioning look from over her bulky shoulder guard. D quickly shifted his eyes away from their brief meeting and slapped the reins against his steed's black neck. The mechanical creature jolted into a steady gallop and Leila grasped for the beast's mane to keep from toppling off. A firm sensation wrapped around her waist and she sighed, slightly leaning into the dhampire's strong form and patiently allowing him to hold her steady against the creature's mounting unnatural speed.

As the trees and hedges, streams and plains rolled by like a whirl, Leila thought about that odd look on D's face she was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of. It seemed so unlike his normal mask of stone. D was a strange and mysterious man altogether, no doubt with good reasons to keep his emotions locked away within himself. But Leila could swear that for a brief moment she found a crack in that mask and it was despair, or perhaps loneliness that escaped from those ancient eyes. Leila sadly contemplated the idea of being so alone for such an eternity as the dark half-breed behind her. Was it by choice or a cruel fate that he remained that way over the unending years?

The two rode away from the ruins of Chaythe in silence, leaving the broken fragments of memories and nightmares to the winds of time.

* * *

**Chapter One: A New Life**

* * *

Charlotte Elbourne awoke comfortably. The sensation of smooth linens surrounding and a soft mattress beneath her made the woman stretch lazily despite her ignorance as to where she was. The room was dark, lit only by a single floral-scented candle whose flame dwindled from a long night's vigil. She sat up slowly and tried to focus on her surroundings. The bed in which she lay was rather large and luxuriant with a tall canopy draped with cascading veils of rich velvet that hung tied to the oak bedposts with woven, tasseled cords. There was a splendidly carved chest of drawers across the room from her upon which the candle sat. Something else lay upon the dresser caught the light of the flame when it flared up, reflecting its light in shards across the wall behind it. A table and pair of chairs that matched the carved artistry of their companion rested beside the dresser. An ivory embroidered piece of cloth dressed the tabletop. Other than that there seemed to be nothing else furnishing the dark and bare-walled room, not even a mirror.

From somewhere beyond the room came the soft sound of lovely music that soothed away any doubts that somehow Meier was not with her. There were few that shared his refined tastes. The space in the bed next to her was also slightly indented and the bed sheet rumpled; Charlotte was not one to move about much in her sleep.

Descending her head onto the place where her lover had lain, Charlotte breathed in deeply of the sweet scent still lingering there, wishing he remained at her side.

'The City of Eternal Night,' she mused, 'did we make it there or is this merely a dream?'

She was suddenly aware of something foreign wrapped around her neck. With a cautious hand, she ran her fingers over the thin strip of gauze that tenderly bound her throat. Her fingertips drifted to the place that Meier, no, that Carmilla had kissed her. The twin wounds ached dully beneath her touch and she sighed, pushing herself upright with what seemed like all her strength. Charlotte was eager to learn what had happened that night. Through the haze that came of blood loss she saw the way her essence flowed by its own will to that grisly sepulcher. And just before blacking out she understood somehow that the Bloody Countess had deceived them. Charlotte truly believed herself dead after that.

The candle flickered and the shards of colored light danced. Curious now, she drew her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, wavering and attempting to compose her balance. She caught a thick wooden post to steady herself until the dizzy mist cleared from her vision. She felt weak, as if something had stripped the very strength from both her bones and spirit. When she felt able to take the few steps that separated her and the mysterious object, she moved in small steps. The flame wavered at her approach and dipped down low, threatening to die, as she grasped the chest top's edge. A gasp of wonder escaped her lips.

The silver chain slipped as fluidly as liquid silk between her fingers as she held the pendant to the light. The jewel at the chain's end was that of a blue so deep it rivaled the deepest ocean. It sparkled madly, even in the dim light.

Gazing with hypnotized rapture at the glowing stone, Charlotte didn't notice when the door behind her creaked quietly open. The tall dark-clad figure that entered drew upon her and stood smiling over her shoulder for a moment before slipping his arms about her waist. She jumped, startled by the unknown presence that suddenly bound her.

"You should not be moving about while you recover, my fair one," the voice rumbled low beside her ear, bringing a smile to her lips.

"Meier! Oh it's so beautiful! What is this wonderful stone?" Charlotte breathed, turning her face up to meet his eyes. In the glow of the candlelight, her large amber eyes glittered with a mixture of joy and bewitchment, like that of a fascinated child. The vampire's lips curled into a loving smile; his heart never had felt this way at any other time than when he was with her.

"It is a gem that is quite rare in this place and can only be found near certain kinds of mountains," he answered.

"This place. . .then I'm not dreaming," she said quietly as if to herself, liquid pooling along her lower lids.

"No, Charlotte, you dream not. We are finally free from the chains that would bind us in the other world. You and I can now live in peace until our final days."

The tears threatening to spill now surged over her faintly blushed cheeks and she smiled, turning completely to embrace her dark lover.

"Free at last," she said into his broad chest and felt more relief in that one moment than all the times of that on Earth combined.

Her joy touched Meier's eyes as well and he kissed the crown of her delicate head.

"Come, my love. There will be much time for the answers later. You must rest now and recover your strength," he said and blinked back his own cold tears. She had been asleep for all but two weeks now, ever since they came upon the Blessed City. His worry for her sake the entire time, despite his knowledge that she would eventually recover, he did not allow to be exposed, for he knew that it would only draw concern from her. He would have this long-awaited night of their reunion last for as long as he could keep it in his control.

Charlotte remained quiet for a moment, reflecting on the way he could always say something one step ahead of her.

"Please lay with me, Meier," she said softly and raised her wet, glistening eyes to capture his gaze. "I don't want you to leave me. Not ever. But, especially not now. Please. . ."

"Yes, I shall stay," he murmured and gently caught her chin in his hand, bending slightly to reach her waiting lips that instantly parted at his touch.

Breaking the brief but tender kiss, he lifted her up like a feather in his inhumanly strong arms and carried her back to the bed. Setting her down carefully, he claimed her lips again, smoothing the silk gown down to bear her pale shoulders. He drew back and smiled at the confusion-clouded innocence on her young face before drawing up the pendant that she had held in her hands. Amber eyes grew wide with astonishment and she instinctively looked at her own hands, which were, of course, empty. His smile broadened.

"This jewel belonged to my mother many, many years past. It came from this place long ago, from her ancient bloodline. She was a very beautiful and noble woman," he said as he began to fix the chain's clasp in place around her delicately bound throat, "It was from her that I learned of this place... It is only fitting that it should find its place back in its homeland adorned upon the fairest being ever to grace existence."

A fresh stream of tears wove two paths down the brunette's cheeks and Charlotte threw herself into her master's arms.

"I love you. Always," she said through the broken joy of her tears and kissed him.

He returned her kisses with equal unfulfilled hunger, the naked desire between them steadily growing.

The two beings made passionate and genuine love for the first time, beyond the reaches of time, while the eyes of angels watched and wept; the lonely candle finally burned itself away as she cried out in ecstasy.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	2. Enchantment

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Two: Enchantment**

* * *

Starlight filtered through the open window on the far side of the wall, mingling with the cool breeze and adding to the illumination of the room with its soft glow. Charlotte rested with her back and pillow against the headboard, watching the strange shadowdance that played across the floor and walls from the rivaling lights of the stars and breeze-tickled candles.

Her legs ached for the chance to walk freely again and her muscles cried out against the weakness that had overtaken them. But Meier insisted that she spend one more day in bed to allow her body the chance to get used to being awake from a long spell.

She eyed the book that laid open facedown across her knee and sighed, finding herself too restless to continue it. The sharp shadows splayed over the room regained her attention for a moment before she allowed herself to slip into daydream, wondering what the world outside that window looked like. Would it be similar to Earth but cast in eternal shadow? Or would it be like some surreal fantasy world that her imagination could never begin to fathom?

Images of trees with black leaves above fields of obsidian earth and strange shoots of vegetation filled her mind. She imagined herself propped against one of those strong and smooth trunks while the stars glimmered through the softly falling leaves of onyx velvet, welcoming her, or mourning her. A feathery breeze touched her cheek and she reached out to catch a strange leaf. Holding it in her palm, she examined it, noting with interest the red network of veins throughout its luxuriantly soft skin. Taking it between her thumbs and forefingers, she ripped the leaf in two down the center and watched with something resembling glee as a thin trail of red liquid emerged. It leaked over her wrists and formed crooked trails down her arms. The little leaf dropped from her fingers and her hands twitched. Raising one wrist slowly toward her face, she opened her lips and emerged the tip of her tongue, eager to taste the crimson liquid that glinted like molten rubies in the night lights.

Her reverie was suddenly broken by a soft rapping upon her door.

"Yes," she answered, disappointment quickly replaced by excitement over the chance that she might explore today.

The crystalline knob twisted and a long-fingered hand pushed the door open. The white-haired vampire entered the room with a tray upon which rested a single fluted goblet made from burnished silver. He quietly closed the door behind him and approached the bedside, setting the tray on the floor. Charlotte graced him with a warm smile and gratefully accepted the goblet from his hand.

The liquid contents ran smoothly down her throat, its heady scent alone reviving her senses. The taste of this mysterious juice was like nothing Charlotte had ever experienced on Earth. She could only think to describe it as fruity, yet not sweet, spicy and yet mild. One could ponder on exactly what it tasted like for so long that it was impossible for it to become boring, for there was nothing in existence that could truly compare with it.

It was lukewarm when she first took it from the vessel but seemed to either heat up or become refreshingly cool when it was swallowed, as if the matter itself knew the desires of the body into which it was taken. Yet it satisfied her cravings and she began to feel her strength returning little by little as she was able to take it for herself.

Meier claimed that he had tried to induce her to drink a bit while she lay in the clutches of slumber, but she rarely unclenched her teeth long enough to take any. "I feared you were still in great pain for the first several days, but your body gradually gave in to its hunger," he had told her.

Charlotte faintly recalled the revolving theme of her unending dream during that time. She remembered the blood everywhere in sight and Carmilla's cruel laughter cutting through the air like a crisp icy wind that sent chills over her spine. And she saw her beloved Meier, lying at her feet when she realized where the source of the sea of blood came from. His depthless eyes had clouded over to stark white and his mouth fell open in a silent agonizing scream. She remembered trying to cover her ears from the horrid sound of Carmilla's mocking laughter but she could not move, could not even summon the power to pull the lids over her eyes and spare herself from that terrible image.

Charlotte shuddered in spite of herself and drained the last drops from the goblet, quickly pushing that memory from her mind. She handed it back to Meier whom had been watching her cautiously. He set the empty vessel back onto the tray and stood over her, that look of a watchful hawk still in his eye.

Catching this, she wrinkled her nose playfully and said, "What? I'm not going to break Meier. You needn't watch over me so."

The man turned and moved toward the window. Leaning his weight into his shoulder, he pressed himself against the wall beside it and gazed out into the night. Charlotte waited for him to speak and watched the wind truss the white strands of his hair that adorned his favorite colored beads. An apprehension seized her.

"Meier?" she ventured.

"The stars seem to have grown brighter at your awakening. The nights that you laid with your pain and torment were so dark and always cold while I waited for you to come back to me," he said without looking at her. A moment passed and a smile slowly overtook his lips; his eyes sparkled at a thought that he kept to himself.

"Would you like to see them now?" he asked and turned to face her.

Her worry vanished and her face brightened before she answered, "More than anything."

"Then so you shall."

* * *

The strange juice had already revived her to the point where her body was stronger for walking and her mind eager for Meier's tales of this strange city's history. "That juice," he had told her on the night they made love, "is an extract from the mysterious flower known as the 'chisuna'. It grows all over this place and is the source of life for we vampires who live among it. I have no doubts that it will sustain yours to the fullest as well. When you are a bit stronger I will show it to you."

Charlotte squeezed Meier's cool hand and beamed up at him with the delight of the prospects awaiting her. He smiled down in return and led her through the main hallway of their new home toward the twin set of heavy doors that stood before them. Stopping at the threshold, Meier released her hand and replaced it around her waist as he pushed a door open. The torches framing either side of the grand hallway flickered dramatically as the outside air swept through. Charlotte's brown locks whipped away from her face and shoulders and she breathed deeply of the cool fresh scent that enveloped her. Meier pulled gently and they resumed their journey, stepping out onto the soft earth.

The scenery was much like that on Earth, yet many differences captured her attention. The stars, for one thing, were not the only sources of light in the sky. From opposite sides of her even gaze she could see two majestic moons. The one on her left side glowed a dull shade of orange and looked enormous against the stars, which did seem to shine much brighter than they did at home. The second moon was white like the Earth's, only further away, and it appeared to be moving faster than its companion, if that was possible. But nothing seemed impossible in this place. Mountains gave feature to the landscape on the horizon; their peaks sharp and jagged even from a distance glowed strangely beneath the celestial lights. Trees similar to those of Charlotte's vision grew tall from the ground, their boughs stretching far away from the trunk, their indecipherable shade of leaves shivering in the breeze.

Truly, such sights were these things before her. Charlotte scarcely remembered to breath as she gazed in wonder. Then, something small and pale wavered beneath a tree nearby, catching her eye. She saw instantly that it was a flower with ivory petals that grew abnormally long from their stem and swooped low toward the ground before ending in spiral-shaped curls. From the center of this flower grew three yellow stamen topped with tiny translucent anthers in the shapes of perfect spheres.

As if reading her mind, Meier led her to the object that transfixed her and plucked it neatly from its bed.

"This is the chisuna," he said and handed it to her, delighting in her reaction.

The flower's scent was just like that of its elixir. Meier reached out to pinch the spheres from the long stamen and lowered them ceremoniously to the ground.

"Here shall grow three more just like it. This is the way we restore our resources. Moonlight is captured in these globes and provides the plant with nourishment, similar to the way your sun nourished the plants of Earth," he explained, "But if they are spoiled, nothing will come of them. They are very delicate structures."

"It's lovely. And so strange," she said, breathing in its perfume.

"For as long as we live do these plants keep us alive and in health. It is believed that this flower has served as our means of survival before the Great Bloodlust," Meier paused in reflection before continuing, "It is said that this plane was the birthplace of my cursed race, and that our ancient ancestor known as Dracula was the first to discover the path to the garden in which humans dwelt. Few followed in his footsteps at first, for they feared the unknown territory. Yet as the stories returned to them of this new essence of life that was sweeter and more intoxicating than any chisuna, imaginations began to ponder. It is no surprise that a great many followed the path through the stars to your home planet afterward. But good things never last forever," Meier finished with an air of melancholy and they began to stroll among the impressive trees.

"But others remain here now?" Charlotte inquired.

"Yes. There are but a few of us that remain. Our numbers have dwindled significantly because of the fools who found themselves butchered in the new land by the humans. My own ancestors lived quite differently, taking what they required and leaving excess to the others who found in blood an uncontrollable ecstasy. And most humans are creatures that crave their concept of justice by any means," Meier said and thought back darkly to the dhampire whom he had fought in the Castle of Chaythe. He was in fact the main source of the vampire race's threat of extinction. The very son of the man who had led them to what he believed would be a new and great life, which wound up leading to their violent deaths on that planet. What an irony.

"I can tell that your family was wise," Charlotte mused aloud, "you have nothing in common with those creatures of the Dark Heritage that guarded us when we eloped."

Meier remained quiet for a moment and cast a glance at the tremendous orange moon before speaking, "I cannot feel pity for those of the Barbarois. They are but feeble creatures that have crawled from the festering ground to grovel at our feet. They chose their fate long ago and it will not last much longer," his voice grew dark and tinged with bitterness, "Yet I think that they shall be content to die with it."

The two walked on steadily in silence, each with unique thoughts. Abruptly, Meier stopped and stepped in front of the woman to block her path. Her eyes were surprised.

"Such a lovely evening should not be dampened by this kind of talk. Let us enjoy it instead," Meier said and, without waiting for a reply, lifted his beloved off her feet and spun around.

Charlotte laughed light-heartedly, its sound echoing into the night.

* * *

As Meier had suspected, the evening wore more on Charlotte than she had let on. He helped her undress and laid her comfortably in bed where she quickly fell into a peaceful sleep, a content smile upon her full lips. The candles still burned steadily in the holders when he closed the window against the breeze. He slowly drew back to her sleeping form, drinking in the sight of her until he stood tall above her. A strong ache wormed through the depths of his heart, one that could almost feel pleasant but left him with such a deep sadness that he could hardly notice it.

Breathing rhythmically, her dark hair curled about her face, her hand resting on her lover's pillow, Charlotte remained unaware of the crimson eyes that watched her, unaware of the sensitive ears that listened intently to the tiny inaudible heartbeats that arose from her womb.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	3. Prophecy

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Three: Prophecy**

* * *

Dusk settled over the sky, chasing the last rays of the sun's sleepy colors beyond the Earth's horizon. Feeling the first chill breeze that welcomed in the nightfall, D drew his brow in and slowly opened his eyes. The overhanging mosaic of vines that watched over him while he slept remained undisturbed to greet his awakening. A noisy crow he had heard in the distance drew closer until it passed over, squawking loudly until it faded into the east.

A low groan rumbled in D's dry throat. He tensed his muscles to stand, shifting his weight to his arms. Another breeze caressed his ageless face and blew his dark hair from his neck, bringing with it the scent of approaching rain.

'Perfect,' he thought with disappointment and eased himself up, peering through the vines at the heavy clouds that were already beginning to conceal the stars. Adjusting his long-brimmed hat, D crossed the secluded glen toward his steed that stood and stamped impatiently at his approach. It shook its black synthetic mane and allowed D to climb onto its back before instinctively heading toward the nearest stream to drink. The pair weaved carefully through the thick woodland, its paths dense with overgrowth of both branches and weeds.

A voice from his left hand broke the quiet. "What were you dreaming about, D? Dare I even ask?" it asked with a subtly sarcastic air on the last note.

"I don't remember," D replied simply, not caring to elaborate.

"Honestly, I can't remember you having nightmares in decades," the parasite in his hand commented, making it obvious that it wasn't about to drop the subject any time soon, "except for the ones you had a few months ago, before the fight at the Castle of Chaythe."

"Why should it matter?" D asked, still disinterested, ducking to miss a branch just before it caught him in the head.

The parasite snorted indignantly. "Need I remind you that your dreams, especially the nightmares, tend to mean something? And these somethings are usually important?"

D remained quiet, even less in the mood for this conversation than before, if that was possible, and hoped that if he ignored the parasite long enough it would either change the subject or get impatient and give up. D silently hoped more for the latter.

"The name Count Lee ring a bell?" the thing asked and D sighed. "Does the swamp ghoul incident mean anything to you? Or how about the time we were nearly killed by that damned..."

"That's quite unnecessary," D broke in.

"You had nightmares just before all of these things, D. And you're not in the least bit concerned about it now?" the parasite ventured.

Once again, D remained without a reply. The frustrated creature grumbled something inaudible and withdrew itself, not in the mind to tolerate one of D's classic somber moods. But D was considering what it said.

He did have similar dreams prior to these battles, and he did not forget them. He didn't want to tell the parasite that he did also remember this last one for two reasons. First and foremost, he was not in the mood for conversation; secondly, he didn't understand the dream and hearing the entity's opinions on the matter did not sound even remotely tolerable at the moment.

The dream was blurry at first before the sheer vividness of it hit him full force, searing its images in his mind. D replayed the scenes behind his eyes. He was sitting in the same enclosed glen that he had fallen asleep in, alone and uneasy. The parasite was not with him, he noticed, when a strange shadow fell over him. He looked to the sun, which had become a striking blue that shocked him as soon as his eyes fell upon it. Choking on a scream of pain, he pressed his hands to his blind eyes and felt blood pouring from them, splashing and pooling around his legs. His agony faded almost as quickly as it came and he pried his eyes open slightly to test his vision. The terrible blue light had melted but blood still lapped gruesomely at his knees. Something from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned in alarm to see. Much to his horror, his eyes found his own mother lying strangely at a distance, her face crunched in pain. He shifted to move to her, to comfort her, when suddenly her countenance relaxed and dark eyes regarded him sadly.

"Oh, D. . .," she whispered in a voice heavy with regret.

He managed to crawl closer bit by bit when he was startled to a stop by the cry of agony that pierced his ears. Blood, thick and dark with clots of gore flowed from between her thighs in pulses, staining her white dress a grisly shade of red. Another cry ripped from her throat and he watched in paralyzed terror as her face contorted again, fighting. The cry became strangled and died before she fell back onto her elbows, exhausted. Her blood seeped closer and closer until it mingled with his own. He watched this with morbid fascination, almost spellbound.

The woman propped herself into a limp sitting position. Reaching down into the mess of her ruined dress, she retrieved what it was that had caused her so much pain. When she emerged her hands, a bloody mass that thudded sickeningly came with them. She turned to face him completely and stretched her arms out, holding the bloody thing like a holy offering. Her eyes went wild with madness.

"Please forgive me, D! I never meant for you to suffer this way!" she cried and pleaded, urging the pulsing object in his direction. "Please forgive me. . . I love you so much!"

He looked to her begging eyes and face wet with tears before regarding what it was that she held out to him so earnestly. His eyes widened at sight of the human heart beating with life, sloshing blood with each pulse through her fingers.

"Please take it, D! Oh it's all my fault! I didn't mean to be so late but I couldn't find you! I couldn't find you anywhere!" a new stream of tears worked down her cheeks, "I never meant to do this to you. Please, D, take it!" her voice rang shrill with desperation.

That's when D awakened. The dhampire was actually surprised that he didn't cry out in his sleep. It was realistic enough. He could still feel that passionate desperation that she had as she cried to him. But the parasite had noticed his state of unrest so he must have been tossing at the very least. D had learned from the entity that he scarcely breathed when he slept, much less tossed about.

A sharp branch scraped along the half-breed's cheek, turning his concentration outward. Blinking with surprise more than pain, D touched the already-healing wound and studied his blood-dabbled finger in the scarce light that the rain clouds were quickly devouring.

The steed found the swiftly flowing stream and immediately stopped to immerse its mouth in its coolness. D dismounted and crouched at the stream's edge, taking his fill of the refreshing water as well. His throat stopped aching at once. From the distance came the low rumble of thunder, accompanied a short time after by a streak of lightening that lit up the sky an electric blue. D flinched and prepared to shield his eyes, the image of the blue blinding light flashing in his memory. But the blindness and pain did not come. The parasite twitched.

"What is it?" it asked, slightly alarmed.

"It's nothing," D answered, closing his eyes to regain his nerves.

The entity regarded him cautiously for a moment but yielded to D's desire to be left alone. Reopening his eyes, D looked into the stream. He watched the reflections of the storm clouds in the water as they moved fluidly across the sky. A small drop of rain splashed upon his hand but he did not take his gaze from the reflections. A gradual but deep and heavy feeling of broken sadness settled on his immortal soul. He remained still at the bank, allowing himself to plunge further into this sudden oppressive emotion that all but overtook him.

More drops of rain followed the first, unnoticed to the troubled dhampire. The black steed whinnied and nudged him urgently with its nose, eager to find shelter from the wetness. D blinked against his withdrawn state and took the horse's face in his hands, petting its jaw reassuringly. He stood and looked about, spotting a dry space beneath a great ancient willow tree on the other side of the stream. Taking the reins, D led the beast across the shallow body toward the promise of dry warmth. As soon as he stepped beneath the tree, relief came to him. The steed grunted in agreement and settled down beside the thick trunk to rest and watch the rain. The burdening sadness that weighed upon him only a moment ago had suddenly vanquished itself, leaving D wrought with more confusion than before. Something was definitely amiss somewhere. But whether it was inside himself or some place unknown in the universe, he did not know.

He needed something to pass the time away while the rain showered unrelenting over the earth, if not to distract himself. Conversing with the parasite was still out of the question. D shook off his long wet cape and set his large hat neatly with it on the ground. The space beneath the willow tree was quite warm and taking these extra pieces off made the half-breed feel cooler already. He walked to the edge of the branches' sheltering field and stood just at the threshold separating it from the rain. From there he could feel the refreshing breezes that carried an earthy yet cleansing scent without getting wet, but that oppressive feeling was present in his mind again, only less strongly. D took a step back and, as he had suspected, the feeling went away. That terrible sadness perhaps was not entirely within him; it was in the very air. But the space around the willow tree was most likely protected against such disturbances. D was not surprised at that; it was probably the oldest and wisest tree in this forest. He was suddenly grateful for that.

D sat dejectedly between his horse and cape, knowing he would have to wait the storm out and staring out into the blurry darkness, pondering without wanting to. Another crack of lightening and thunder appeared and sounded in unison and briefly lit the forest in unearthly glow. The entire night seemed to be that of a completely different world to D.

A faint scraping sound perked up his ears. D carefully turned his head and sought out the source of the noise, his keen eyes focusing hard in the dark. A slight shifting of movement in the dense boughs of the willow tree captured his gaze and he tried to focus on what it was. For a long moment nothing happened. The sound of the rain continued its steady patter with the occasional roll of thunder. D's eyes narrowed.

Then he began to make out a shape. The outline of its body didn't appear distinguishable, as it was small and huddled in a crouching position. But two slanted eyes the color of indigo formed slowly and grew brighter until they looked as if on fire. Like ghost flames, bright and alert, and staring right back at the half-breed. D steadied his hand just above his shoulder to seize his sword when the signal came. But the thing merely watched him.

"Who are you?" D called up to it.

The being did not reply but slowly blinked its large brilliant eyes. They stayed half-closed this time; two blue slits peering at him lazily like twin crescent moons. D sighed in resignation and lowered his defenses, turning away from the creature and leaning heavily against the tree. The parasite shifted uneasily.

"What is it D?! Will you stop ignoring me and tell me what's going on?" the voice in his left hand complained.

D rubbed his left wrist and replied, "Just a tree spirit. It's harmless."

The little face in his palm shifted its mouth into a tight line that showed it didn't entirely believe its host. D lifted his eyebrows at it, a look that communicated that he didn't want any arguments. The parasite snorted and stole a hard look at the creature in the tree for itself.

"Still, something doesn't seem right," it said, studying the mysterious shape.

D ignored the spirit and closed his eyes to let the soft sound of the rain sooth him. It eventually slowed from a pour to a steady drizzle that the stream welcomed by expanding its banks. The thunder faded further into the distance, its companion the lightening following. D found himself in a state of rest, half asleep as the rain eased itself away. The clouds began to dissipate and drift eastward, revealing the moon and stars. D's horse snorted and lumbered out of the tree's sanctity into the fresh cool of the night to steal another drink from the bulging stream.

D observed it for a while before reaching for his cloak and hat to depart. A sudden, raspy and otherworldly voice stopped him short.

"Be prepared for his coming, dhampire. You will have to make a difficult choice when that time comes. Be wisely prepared," the creature from the tree spoke slowly and strangely, its very voice captivating D's senses.

The hunter turned to look up into the tree and saw that the spirit with glowing eyes of blue fire was no longer there. He had never in all his years heard one speak. The lingering memory of its terrifyingly sensual voice chilled his bones. D quickly took up his cloak and hat, replacing them on his body before striding out to meet his horse, eager to get away from the haunted forest. The steed stamped its feet with surprise as D leapt unnoticed upon its back and turned about to the direction that they were headed. The beast started into a hasty gallop.

"Nothing huh? I wouldn't call THAT nothing," the parasite commented matter-of-factly, "Have you ever heard of a tree spirit speaking?"

"No," D answered truthfully.

"What did it mean by HIM? Any ideas, D?" it asked more curious than ever.

"I know absolutely nothing of the meaning behind its message," D replied, keeping the slight tinge of fear that held him concealed from his voice.

"Strange, very strange indeed," the entity said half to itself and began to ponder silently.

They continued through the vast stretch of wood toward the nearest town, D's discomfort at the thought of the spirit's prophecy increasing with each stride.

To be continued. . .

* * *


	4. Birth and Death

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Four: Birth and Death **

* * *

Several Months Later:

A great fire licked at the bricks of the fireplace before the amber-eyed woman. She watched the red flames weave their hypnotic dance, ensnaring her concentration. The sitting room was pleasantly warm, encased in soft illumination. Gradually the red of the flames melted away and yielded to pure blue, their white bases giving the illusion that the flames somehow floated above the wood they burned. Footsteps sounded nearby and Charlotte looked up to greet her beloved's return.

Meier entered and strode across the room to meet her with two chalices carved from silver in his hands. He stood behind her and abandoned one of these to her waiting hand before leaning over to rest his chin lightly in her soft curls. Charlotte stole a sip of the cup's pale contents and watched as Meier's hands wandered over her heavily swollen abdomen.

"Do you suppose it's a boy or a girl?" she asked somewhat dreamily.

"Truly it would ruin the surprise if I told you," Meier answered feigning shock.

"You mean. . . but how could you know?" she asked and tilted her head to gawk in surprise at him.

"My acute senses tend to leave little room for the imagination," he replied and kissed her forehead.

"Yes, but, it's not fair that you should know and I cannot," she pouted, childlike. Meier smiled.

"My love, I do think that you already know as well as I," he said soothingly.

To that she merely gave a tiny lopsided smile and settled deeper into the chair before confiding, "I have a feeling. To that much alone am I certain." The reflections of the blue flames flickered in her eyes.

"Meier?" she called softly.

"Yes?"

Her lips found the chalice rim once more before she continued. "What will this child be like? Will he be immortal as you are? Or will he age and die like me?" she asked in a toneless voice as if she knew what his reply would be.

The vampire's hands withdrew from her and found the back of the chair instead as he straightened. A silent sigh escaped his chest.

"The child will live in agelessness for eternity," he answered, finding even that simple reply challenging to bring past his lips.

"I see," she said. Her saddened voice gave Meier the will to press on and attempt to console her.

"Time flows very differently here. You will have many more years than you would on your own plane. Perhaps several more lifetimes," he reassured her and ran his fingers through her delicate hair. Moments of silence followed, broken only by the occasional crack of the flames. Meier's heart began to fall.

Her voice came out small and defeated as she spoke, "Be that as it may, it is still no more than a blink of an eye to one that does not know mortality. Though the idea scares me a little, I want to become like you, Meier."

The vampire felt his muscles stiffen against his will. He had known that this conversation was inevitable, but he could not prepare for it now.

"I want to be with you and our child forever. Why must I be condemned to have to leave you behind?" she continued and Meier knew that her tears had begun to fall.

"Charlotte, I cannot grant this wish you ask," he began and the pain of regret filled him like lead with each word he spoke. "You don't know what it's like to spend an eternity alive only to expect yet another eternity to pass. The time does not pass quickly, I assure you. If it weren't for you, I should think myself quite mad by now. Mortality is a blessing, my fair one, but this life. . . this life is the condemned one. I am both glad and tormented over the birth of this child. It is not an easy thing to mourn those that have yet to be born knowing the never-ending fate that awaits them" he sighed, half-shuddering with sorrow. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," she said and pressed her hands to her face to wipe away the tears that had been falling as he spoke. "But I still desire it."

"I know you do, my dear, but it can never be. Not as long as there is love in my heart for you," Meier said.

She giggled unexpectedly and said lightly, "But even still, I can't help being excited."

Meier wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders gratefully and held her tight.

"As am I."

She smiled weakly and continued to slowly drain her glass as Meier released her and stood to take his own chair next to hers. As he did so, he fell into deep thought. He imagined what it would be like to have her forever at his side. The image was very tempting, but it was not possible. He fought to banish it from his mind. Charlotte was a strong woman in her own way, but not strong enough to endure countless centuries as an undead. He knew this. It was concrete in his very being but removing the temptation that beckoned him against it was no easy task nonetheless.

He settled into his chair and picked up the dusty book from its arm, flipping through the pages to find his place. He hoped that he could escape such musings if he could only distract himself. But it wasn't long before the words were passing unheeded before his eyes and his thoughts returned to speculation.

He remembered the first time he ever saw her, standing among the deep red roses in the garden before her large looming house and gazing at the midnight moon. Even then he could see a longing in her wondrous eyes, a desire to be free. He crept closer to her, eager to taste her blood for it would no doubt be as sweet as her beauty. But she had keen senses of her own and turned to him as he approached, fear replacing the wakeful dream in her eyes. But then something strange had occurred. The fear melted and she smiled at him. And to Meier, that smile was one that could never be outshined. He froze, taken aback.

"Good evening, sir," she called to him. "The moon is lovely this eve is it not?"

He scolded himself for hesitating before this human girl and resumed his stride.

"It is," he replied and admired the way the moonlight glimmered in her hair and on her gown. Her eyes seemed to be admiring him as well, though he could not understand why. Most humans shunned his grace in favor of terror, which he didn't mind in the slightest. It amused him. But this girl was different, strange.

"May I ask to what destination you are drawn at such an hour?" she asked shyly and toyed with a rose. He stopped a few feet from her and drank in the sight.

That one moment was what turned Meier's heart forever. He felt himself weakening in her presence, desiring to take but wanting to preserve her beauty, which resembled that rose in her hands.

"To this very place, it seems," he answered and his heart grew light when she smiled again.

"Oh? But why would that be?" she asked and a blush rose to her cheeks.

Such a bold woman. She had no idea of the kind of creature that she was appealing to. If he wanted, he could have taken her and left her for dead right then and there. But that untouched innocence that she had was too pure to be tainted by his unholy kiss, and he found himself liking her more and more.

They chatted amiably for several moments before a light flared in one of the house's windows. The look of fear returned to her eyes.

"I must go. But please tell me your name," she asked.

"Meier Link," he replied.

"I'm Charlotte Elbourne. I hope that I will see you again, Meier. Perhaps, tomorrow night?" she asked with obvious hope.

He couldn't resist her charm and agreed. "Tomorrow," he said and bowed to her.

She flashed one last smile at him and hurried inside to meet her brother, shutting the door before he could see that she was talking to a strange man. Meier stayed and listened to them argue for a while before turning back the way he came. He wondered if that was the reason for the longing in her eyes when he first happened upon her. Meier startled himself with that thought. For once in all his long years, a human had captured his imagination. He resolved to return the next night to meet her.

Meier allowed his nostalgia to comfort him for the moment. That night would always be one to treasure. But the conversation they had just carried out reentered his thoughts.

Meier had always believed in some form of afterlife. And the faith that they two would meet again in such a realm was the only consolation he had over the dire reminder of her fate. That is, if monsters like him were allowed one. The thought shook him but the sudden sound of clattering metal made him jump.

He turned in alarm and saw Charlotte doubled over in pain as she clutched her abdomen. A river of thick water flowed down her legs and swirled into the spilled juice at her feet. A guttural groan wracked her body.

"What is it?" he asked in a state of panic, though he knew very well.

"It's coming now," she answered with forced strength and trembled.

Meier found his muscles once more and hastened to the sofa to tug off the ever-present blanket that Charlotte curled up with to read at nights. The two pillows at either end came with him and together formed a hasty bed by the fire. Taking her arm for balance, Meier guided her down onto it, eyes widening at the sight of blood already escaping her.

"I'll be right back. Please hold on," he said and squeezed her hand before hurrying out to gather a bowl of water, rags, and another blanket.

She was crying in agony when he returned; the bloodstain on the blanket beneath her had widened. Meier impatiently fought aside the instinctive heat that flowered in his groin at the sight of it as he set the items down. He dipped a rag into the cool water and smoothed the beads of sweat away from her forehead. Her hand flew up and clutched his with a strength that surprised him so much he almost felt pain from that grasp. Her face contorted as she cried out and Meier murmured comforting words in her ear, his worry mounting.

For just over an hour she remained in labor though it felt to Meier like a nightmare that would never end. He had done everything he could to coax her into pushing but it was no avail. From what he had heard from others, birthing those with vampire blood was usually very difficult for the mothers. It would be the same with Charlotte. Meier could not stop himself from silently praying to some higher entity that she make it through this alive.

Finally, it began. Charlotte's screams grew ragged with weariness but the pain did not subside. Her skin grew paler with the trial and she continued to bleed rapidly. The baby's crown emerged slowly and she fought with every ounce of her strength and will combined to push it from her.

"One more, Charlotte. Just one more," Meier pleaded and prepared to deliver his child. The sight of all the blood gleaming in the cool blue light of the flames made him nearly swoon with dizziness. And the overpowering smell of it. . . there was no doubt that he used just as much strength as she to control the lust that threatened to well over inside of him. The shame he would feel were he to give in to such a thing at such a time proved quite controlling.

Charlotte clenched her muscles tight and expended everything she had into that final push with an exhausted groan that bordered on a scream. Blackness swelled behind her eyelids and all sounds about her faded into silence. The pain that wrenched every fiber of her body dulled and throbbed in time with her weakened heartbeats and she felt as though she were floating away from herself. A strong baby's cry rang in her ears and brought her back to reality for a moment. She worked to lift the heavy weights that were her eyelids and looked eagerly upon her child.

Through the haze she saw Meier cleaning her blood from the small infant; its tiny hands looked as though they fought him from doing so. Meier's ruby eyes shimmered with unshed tears when he looked to her and she lost control of her own. They slid hot down her flushed face as she tried to reach out to them, but her arms lay limp with exhaustion at her sides. Meier obliged her weakness and stretched himself out beside her to share their new son's first moments.

"So beautiful," she whispered and gazed into the child's calmed face, not noticing the way Meier watched her with concern. "What should we name him?"

Meier returned his gaze to the pale skinned infant in his arms and contemplated. The soft tuft of hair on its little head was colorless, white as its father's. The infant's eyes opened then to reveal orbs of stunning crimson; another uncommon trait like his own. But the baby had his mother's fine yet rounded features in his face. Meier knew he would grow up to be beautiful.

"Caruwyn. It seems fitting, don't you think?" he mused aloud. Charlotte smiled slightly.

"Yes. It's a good name," she gasped and coughed. Meier reached for her hand.

"Tell me what you need," he demanded softly. Her eyes reopened and gazed sadly at him.

"Just . . . just let me rest," she breathed and exhaustion overtook her.

The blackness returned to greet her and take her away into sweet rest. But her heart was aching and she had not the strength to speak anymore; not even will power alone would enable her to fight the clouds that enfolded her senses. That feeling of lightness returned and she knew that she was slipping away from her body. Once the last sensation of physical life had released her, she was able to look one last time on her two beautiful cherished ones and a tear slipped from her eye.

* * *

'My beloved husband and son, I shall never forget you. With all of my heart I will be there with you, always.'

* * *

"Charlotte?" Meier called to her softly and touched her cheek. She did not respond and her broken breathing had stopped. A sudden panic seized his heart with icy firmness. He set the baby at his side and grasped her shoulders.

"Charlotte! Answer me!" he cried out and shook her. Her body lay limp and motionless in his hands, her head slumped back. His eyes grew impossibly wide in horror.

"No . . . no! I won't allow it!" he exclaimed angrily and tore at his shirtsleeve before lifting his arm to his mouth. His sharp teeth tore a neat wound into his skin and blood welled up, sliding over his forearm.

"Charlotte, please drink from me," he pleaded and pressed the wound to her pale lips. He watched in growing dismay as his essence dripped slowly into her unmoving mouth and slid in stark contrast down her bloodless cheeks.

"DRINK!" he screamed but his tears had already begun.

The infant began to cry loudly at its father's distress and Meier slumped over Charlotte's body. His arms lifted her into his embrace and rocked her as he mourned. The room was filled with the sounds of crying and grieving; the scent of death began to seek out the corners.

Meier's senses began to fuse together and every emotion he ever knew swept through him as he held the source of his happiness, now dead in his arms. Through the pain and grief came a surging anger and remorse at denying her his life when he had the chance. But now it was too late and he would never see her again. Never see her age in happiness as her son grew into a man. Never again hear her sweet voice. Never again feel her gentle touch and sweet breath warm his cold skin.

"Charlotte . . .," Meier moaned in agony before a soul-shattering cry of defeat ripped from his throat.

To be continued. . .

* * *

Author's Note: The name Caruwyn comes from a combination of the Welsh words caru (love) and gwyn (pale, blessed).


	5. Visions

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Five: Visions **

* * *

Across the Universe:

The dry earth crumbled in the dhampire's fingers as he clutched it, dull pain coursing through him like electric waves. The low groan that rattled his chest could not be stifled and he felt nauseous as the pressure took residence in his skull. He gagged twice but nothing came up though he felt as if his stomach were bleeding.

"D!" the parasite barked. "What's happening? I don't sense any spellwork. Is it the sun?"

Though the sun's position was at high noon the weather was not hot. And D knew that this pain was something completely different than that caused by too much of it; it was something foreign. He rested his head upon the cool ground and wrapped his arms firmly about his torso in a vain effort to ward away the suffering that seized him from nowhere.

He had just finished a job for a well-off peasant that earned him a rather hefty sum for ridding the small nameless village of the unnatural beast that roamed its shadows. The beast was not a vampire, which D was most notorious in his reputation for hunting down, but a minor distraction in the dhampire's experienced eyes. Nothing more than that of landlurker in half wolf, half serpent's form, finding grotesque satisfaction in feeding off of the unfortunate sheep and farm animals that couldn't escape its long claws fast enough. D had come across these things often in his travels and though he had no real grudge against such minor evils, the pay that came with destroying them was usually good enough to win over his apathy. As he rode away from the grateful little village, a foreboding feeling crept over him. He thought little of it, not wanting to spoil his somewhat pleasant mood. But the further he rode, the stronger it became until it all but knocked him from his steed in mid-flight.

D slumped heavily to the ground and rolled onto his side, dust clinging pale to his black cape and boots. His head spun with overpowering vertigo and his eyes rolled back as he groaned again. He felt as if the entire world had come toppling down on him in that instant and his weak protests could do nothing to temper it. Just as suddenly as that thought occurred to him, his body stilled on its own accord and his senses faded out.

The parasite grew even more alarmed at D's stillness and took control over his fingers. It pushed itself upright and looked upon its master's unresponsive state. The dhampire's eyes remained rolled back to their shocking whites and his fangs had emerged, long and sharp in his silent scream. The scene was unnerving.

"D! Wake up! What the hell's the matter with you?" it cried. "D! D!!"

* * *

"D! Wake up," a soft voice implored him.

The half-breed blinked slowly and opened his dark eyes to the voice. He quickly became aware of the sounds of running water and birds chirping melodically in the distance. The light that greeted his tired, half-slit eyes was bright and cheerful but it did not hurt them. D breathed in and caught the scent of fresh grass before he became aware of its lush softness against his face. A warm breeze floated lazily over his body and induced him to open his eyes further without fear.

"D," the soothing voice called again, closer.

A gentle, slender hand stroked his cheek and he instantly recognized the smell of the one belonging to it. His sight became focused and he shifted it to the shape with dark flowing hair at his side, picturesquely framed against the shining blue of the cloudless sky.

"Where am I?" he asked, surprised at the weakness of his tone. The woman smiled and pushed a stray hair from his forehead with unnecessary care.

"Is it painful?" she asked.

He drew his arms in to push himself up but she stopped him, pressing astonishingly strong hands against his shoulder to pin him in place.

"Please don't," she said.

"Why?" he asked, confused at her behavior.

She merely curled her lips into another odd smile, its position unlike one he'd ever seen upon her face.

"Is it painful?" she repeated.

"No," he answered and stared searchingly into eyes that mirrored his own.

"I'm glad," she said and leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. They lingered that way for a moment before she withdrew. "For your pain is also mine."

Her eyes gazed deep into his, thoughts and emotions indescribable passing between them. D found himself too stunned to speak from the lock that gaze placed on him. But he became increasingly aware of the sky shifting behind her. Brighter and brighter it grew until the blue of it made him sick and uneasy in its familiarity. Still those large brown eyes held him. He watched from around his central focus as clouds streaked across the sky, piling over one another and even through one another, shifting about in a fevered frenzy. D half expected night to fall in and cover the swiftness of the swirling daylight, only to give way to the day once again as if time were trapped inside a spinning toy around this strange world. But the aching blue did not falter to any kind of darkness. His jaw clenched tighter when he tried to speak, his eyes refused to budge, and his breath held still.

Her piercing gaze finally released him as her heavily lashed lids slowly closed. D shuddered and gratefully closed his tormented eyes against the terrible light.

"And yet my pain does nothing to you I see," her voice crooned as the wind picked up.

When he found the will to reopen his eyes and return his sight to her, he found that dark stare upon him again, her hands pressed to her chest. Long dark hair wormed about her face as if alive in the agitated air.

"Why did you take my heart away?" she asked forlornly.

"Mother . . ." D began, not knowing what to say, and still distracted by the hideous light and whipping winds.

"You denied your own did you not? When you did so you took mine away from me. And that is painful, D," she continued. The light caught a flicker of red that slowly traced her lower lid before the liquid seeped out down her cheek. Before he knew it, both her eyes shed tears of blood, her irises' dark color changed to a matching red that shimmered with aching grief.

D fought his weakness with all his strength and clamored to his knees, his arms seeking. All in the instant it took to lean closer for an embrace, he saw her large dark eyes blink and release thick wave of bloody tears from their depths. When they reopened, her face had transformed, just enough that she remained recognizable yet noticeably changed. The eyes that leered at him from within that face were now those of the tree spirit he had seen not so long ago under the great willow, shining and mystic, but unmistakably alight in some unshared amusement above the smiling, blood-streaked cheeks. As he descended to touch her, his body fell through dead air and continued to fall as if through a black pit. The stale air became icy and painful as it pierced through skin to his very bones. The solid ground that finally met him shocked him cold.

* * *

D felt another hard slap against his face. He clenched his uncomfortably dry eyes closed and growled.

"Damnit, D! It's about time," the hunter heard the wretchedly familiar voice by his left ear exclaim.

"I . . .was dreaming," he said as if he had just realized it himself.

"What was it about?" the hand demanded.

"My mother . . .her eyes were bleeding and . . . there was so much blue . . ." D tried to reason but the words didn't sound right when voiced.

"And?" the thing pressed.

"I don't know. None of it makes sense," D said and rubbed his eyes.

"Hmph. Was it anything like the last one you had . . . what was it . . . a few years ago? Though if it was I doubt you'd tell me. And because nothing has happened since then it either has something to do with it or you're finally losing your mind," the parasite grumbled. "But whatever you might say, I think this IS a warning of some kind that you should be a little more concerned about now."

"I'm not sure what to be. But it IS difficult to be prepared for something unknown based on a mere dream," D snapped and stood up, bracing himself against the faithful black horse waiting next to him.

"The day you go flying off running horses to have just a 'mere' dream is the day I grow legs," it retorted dryly. The parasite waited for another comeback. It was anything but prepared to hear only a broken sob.

D pressed his face into the steed's smooth side, overcome by a great sadness even his fierce pride couldn't deliver him from. He no longer cared if the creature that mocked him witnessed his breakdown or not. But he continued to fight the tears as much as he could, as was his nature, though his efforts weren't winning. And yet he did not know what had come over him or why it should hurt so badly. Was it that same restlessness that haunted him that night under the great willow or was it all from within himself?

There was a certain sense of surety buried in his torment. The voiceless spirit that broke the barrier of the laws binding it to silence did not speak lightly, though D would never question that. But ignoring it was easier than allowing it to agitate him over the eventless months that followed. Why now would it return to remind him? And what could possibly be so significant that he would fall into nightmare filled with so many cryptic messages without so much as the grace of slumber to guide him?

Regardless of its nature, he couldn't stop it now. The dhampire mused bitterly to himself. How long had it been since he had shed tears? His heart and soul, if he did indeed have them, felt as though they were ripping in two.

"D, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take you lightly," the parasite said with difficulty though it was genuine. "Maybe we can figure this dream out."

"It no longer matters," D managed to say evenly and lifted himself onto the beast as it shook its mane. "Whatever it is and whenever it comes, there is nothing that can be done to stop it." The mount kicked its powerful front legs high in the air and snorted before speeding out toward the desolate hills before them.

"You're just going to let it go and pretend this didn't happen?"

"What would you have me do?!" D said so sharply that even he himself was surprised. He almost regretted it enough to apologize but decided to hold his tongue instead. The black beast roared over the steady rises and falls of the foothills, kicking up dirt and shorn grass in its wake.

However, the companion was not expecting an apology. It knew something was eating away at the hunter's mind and resigned from further probing on the matter. It knew it could claim no power to extract any more details that would enable it to try and solve the nightmares of its master, no matter how well its judgments seemed to be in the past.

The parasite wondered at D's rare emotional behavior. In all the years that they had traveled together, he had never seen such a reaction to anything. It wondered if D really was losing his mind. In those years wandering the Earth with the single purpose of aiding the humans fixated in him, refusing to shift for anything, such a notion didn't seem so farfetched. He was still half human after all. Could all the endless years have taken their toll on that side of him that was a mortal? The parasite had never really thought of it before. But if it was not madness, then what was it?

To be continued . . .

* * *


	6. Separate Paths

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Six: Separate Paths**

* * *

City of Eternal Night, Twenty Years Later:

The glow of the orange moon cast eerie shadows across the cold ground beneath Meier's slumped body. His knees touched the earth without feeling the tiny ice crystals that clung to the grass at the foot of the knoll. His eyes were fixed upon the marker at its head as his hands toyed with a silvery pale-petalled flower. The crystalline seeds came away easily from their place as they wavered above the newly dying chisuna and into his numb fingers. Though his thoughts lay transfixed elsewhere, his hold on them remained gentle so they would not break. He whispered silent words into the scarce breeze that dissolved into the endless night.

Smoothing the last patch of dirt that bore no flowers into a tiny groove, he placed the fragile seeds down and absently admired the way they glowed with the light of the moon. His gaze wandered over the small knoll before him, covered in blooming chisuna. Every year on the day of her passing would he plant a new one atop her grave, for he knew that she loved them. It was once again her tragic anniversary on this night, and after this flower grew there would be no more room to plant them.

Meier's sad eyes lingered on the engraving of her name, exquisitely carved into the alabaster-like stone. He had crafted it himself the day after he buried her and found that he had never had to do anything so difficult in all his years, and he did not expect that anything should exceed it in the future. Though his eyes stung with tears the entire time he carved the marker, it came out masterful, the sculpted images of the City's flowers framing her name, forever bending to it. So many years . . . and yet in reality it had been so few. He still missed her dreadfully. The passing of time would temper the grief for most with such a weight in their hearts, but it only seemed to make it harder for him and living a single day without her graceful presence haunting his memory was impossible.

Meier started slightly at the soft touch on his shoulder. His eyes flickered to the pale, slender hand that gripped him gently before moving his own to cover it. He squeezed it lightly and felt another wave of despair as he did so. It felt so much like hers.

"Come, father. The evening grows cold," the hand's owner said softly.

The youth lifted Meier's hand away and pulled insistently. The grieving vampire stood and took in one last image of Charlotte's cold grave before turning to regard his son.

Caruwyn stood like a sympathetic angel before him, tall as he, his ruby eyes glittering in the full moonlight. The young man's long, wavy, white hair lay bound behind his back in a black ribbon, a few stray strands peeking over his finely-chiseled shoulders like ghostly wisps against his favorite black frockcoat. Soft shadows from the silent tree's leaves above him patterned his achingly smooth face and a small smile took his full lips.

Meier remembered the days of his son's childhood, how fleeting they seemed. Though it was not easy work to raise the stubborn-headed boy alone, Meier treasured those days. To have one that was so filled with innocence and an undeniably fiery spirit with him was like a second blessing. It returned some sense of joy to his broken life. He knew he had done his best in raising his son, for Caruwyn carried with him a proud, quiet wisdom even for his young age. Many years it had been, though the young man before him looked older than his true age. Meier had suspected that one carrying both vampire and human blood would reach their prime as quickly as do pure vampires, and he was right.

Caruwyn turned out to be every bit as beautiful and graceful as he had imagined. Though he never ceased to find it strange that one bearing the blood of a human would carry primarily the weaker genes of his color in favor of Charlotte's dark hair and rosy skin tone. It suited him nonetheless. The frail smile that the young man wore now was the only part of him that had not changed from the child and Meier returned it weakly. How quickly they grow.

Caruwyn turned away and Meier followed him into the house away from his beloved's grave. It was comfortably warm inside; the hallway torches lit into full flare burned steadily like silent guards on either side of them. Caruwyn led his father into the large sitting room where a well-stoked fire burned, though Meier scarcely felt its warmth. The vampire allowed his son to guide him to his chair in front of the flames before Caruwyn dismissed himself to assemble two chalices of the chisuna wine he had made recently. When the young man returned he found his father staring emptily into the flames as he so often did anymore.

The young half-breed handed him a glass of the strong wine and settled into the chair beside his father's to join him in watching the fire burn. They sat in silence for a long time though neither one really noticed. Caruwyn's glass was nearly empty when he glanced at Meier whose wine remained untouched. He sighed inwardly.

For the past several weeks, Meier had been drinking less and less and the effects of such neglect to his body's health began to show in his slighter frame. Caruwyn's eyes traced the hollowed ridge beneath his sire's cheekbones and saw that his eyes looked more sunken and tired than ever. Faint lines of exhaustion had steadily claimed the smooth skin at the edges of his eyes as well. The young dhampire had tried before to make his father aware of his weakening state, but it was useless. Caruwyn rose to kneel beside Meier's chair and looked into eyes that failed to see him.

In the days of his youth, Caruwyn adored his father. He still did, however that adoration of a child who sees his father in the highest places of his heart had mellowed to genuine respect and care. They could sit and have conversations without saying a word, just looking at each other. But those had faded, just like everything else that had defined his youth, as he grew older and more independent. It pained him to see his only family's descent into old sorrow.

"Father, please drink it. You grow weak when you ignore your body's hunger," he implored. Meier blinked and slowly turned his head to look down at his son. Caruwyn sensed a change in those eyes as if a silent decision that had long battled in his head had finally been made.

"Caruwyn, have I ever told you about your mother?"

The albino knitted his fine eyebrows. "Of course. You've often told of the grace and generous heart that you loved."

Meier's eyes lingered on his son's for a moment before settling back to the fire. Caruwyn couldn't read that expression.

"I know you have been curious about her, and I am sorry I have not told you much in the past. It was too difficult for me," the vampire spoke.

"I know that," Caruwyn assured him. Meier looked at him again.

"I've seen your eyes wander long over the vessel that brought us to this land. I cannot imagine how such a strong-headed child could honor his father's discomfort over his own curiosity," the tired vampire said and smirked when Caruwyn's cheeks flushed faintly. He settled back into the chair. "She and I were born on a place called Earth, a small planet far into the stars. I was born a creature of darkness and she one of light. It is a planet ruled by the humans and being of my race were not looked upon too kindly. For one such as myself to meet and love the fair daughter of a prestigious man was intolerable to the race of men. They hired others to take her and kill me, so we had to escape. It was a great struggle for the peace we sought."

Meier grew silent for a moment. "But things turned out quite differently than I had anticipated. Her departure left me greatly changed and I am eternally grieved that you could not know us as we were, the way we should be still. That you could never look upon the face that gave you life . . ."

"Please don't torture yourself anymore," Caruwyn begged and grasped his father's trembling hand.

"No. It's been far too long and you deserve to know more," Meier said, determined.

Caruwyn listened with fascination to all the new and strange things that flooded his ears and piqued his imagination. Meier spoke of the blue skies that radiated with a sun he could never truly admire, the colors of a summer evening as it crept from the horizon, the music that filled the night skies when the birds would sing. He spoke of the vampires' history he held from Caruwyn in youth and the Great Bloodlust that destroyed those that fell to it, of his flight to the City of Eternal Night after being deceived by Carmilla, of the battle with the dhampire who held their mercy in his hands and let them escape. At the mention of another half-breed, Caruwyn blinked in surprise.

"There are those with vampire's blood remaining on this 'Earth'?" he asked.

"Not for long, I fear. Their mistake of living in a place that requires taking life in order to survive will not go forever unpunished," Meier said bitterly. He paused and his voice softened. "But those like you . . . with tempered blood in their veins, have a choice." A fleeting image of pain crossed his features, though within them lurked something unsaid.

"And you lived as they did? Like the other vampires?" Caruwyn asked.

Meier sighed deeply. "I took my share of blood as well. And though I do not regret the lives that have been given for mine, I know that I am . . . tainted by such knowledge. But living without taking another life in return is not possible for the pureblooded race when living in the realm of mankind."

Caruwyn remained quiet, still baffled by years of knowing nothing about himself and little about his father suddenly thrust upon him. A thought began to trouble him.

"Father, why did you wait to tell me all of this now?" he asked quietly.

Meier steadily regarded the pale creature kneeling at his feet. "You are a man now, Caruwyn. There are things that you deserve to and need to know if you are to live your own life. And that time is fast approaching."

The half-breed was confused. "What do you mean?"

Meier set the full chalice on the floor and lifted himself out of the chair. Caruwyn stood with him.

"Come with me," the vampire said and walked from the room. Caruwyn followed his father through the hallways until they came upon his mother's old private room. As a child he was forbidden to ever enter, as an honor to her memory. A slight gust of cold, neglected air escaped when Meier twisted the knob and pushed the door open. A candle at the far end of the room lit up as they entered. Meier led his son to the chest of drawers upon which the candle sat and picked up a small wooden box stained in deep crimson. Even in the dim glow of the candlelight Caruwyn thought it looked the color of blood, though he could not bring himself to ask what exactly that stain had been made with. Meier opened the delicate latch and withdrew a shining blue pendant dangling from a silver chain. He turned gravely to his son and held before him.

"I gave this to her when she awoke from our journey. It is a precious heirloom in my own family and she cherished it greatly. It pained me to steal it from her neck before returning her to the earth," he said and fought back the memories. Caruwyn was speechless as his father latched it about his neck. "It belongs to you now. I know she would have wanted you to have it."

Meier placed his hands on his son's shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. "I cannot bear another year without her. Even now I hear the spirits calling me. You have grown so much, matured greatly for your age. But a life of your own is waiting. And I have nothing more to teach you."

Caruwyn's eyes grew large though it had nothing to do with the dim light of the room. Meier's arms pulled him into a tight embrace and his hands smoothed over his back.

"I love you, my son. That will never change, no matter which plane I exist on. It may be difficult, but I know you have the strength to do what I ask of you," the vampire said lowly.

Understanding lit up in the back of his mind but Caruwyn refused to acknowledge it. "Father, I cannot . . . I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

Meier released him and held him at an arm's length. This time he was the one to bear sympathy in his eyes. After a moment the vampire strode to the untouched bedside and retrieved a long blade of forged steel from beneath it. The grooved hilt of the sword gleamed strangely in his hands as he returned. Meier had no expression when he held it to his son. Caruwyn's face grew shocked and dismayed all at once but he refused to take the blade.

"Please, my dearest son. End my suffering and give me peace at long last."

"No! I could never do such a thing!" Caruwyn exclaimed wildly. The sword glinted as the blue flame wavered but Meier's gaze did not. He released one hand from the blade and let the sword droop to his side. His free hand found his shaking son's shoulder again.

"Understand, Caruwyn. I know that you do, but your heart refuses. I do not seek to dismiss you, only to free you, and myself. You know this is the only way." He touched the gem at his son's breast. "As long as the light of this stone remains, I shall be with you. Never forget it. But we cannot keep each other bound to misery any longer. You have much ahead of you."

The two searched each other's eyes for a long time without speaking. Tears began to form in Caruwyn's when he saw the resolve in his father's gaze. And it became clear that he had to do this, no matter how much his heart bonds persuaded him otherwise.

Caruwyn reached out slowly, reluctantly, and latched his hand upon the hilt of the cold blade, brushing Meier's hand as it let go. He let his eyes fall to it for a moment before dragging them back up to search his sire's again. 'May peace and wisdom continue to find you,' they said with loving reassurance, smiling. 'And forever to you,' Caruwyn's answered before the vampire's eyes closed and the blade rose in blurring speed to sever the head clean from Meier's shoulders. The look of peace upon it never faltered.

To be continued . . .

* * *

Thank you kindly to everyone who has given me feedback. It means a lot to me!


	7. Leaving Home

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Leaving Home**

* * *

Caruwyn's hands trembled violently and his stomach twisted into a tight knot as he sat before the dying flames that now burned like those when none with unholy blood were present did. Tears he thought had been spent once again fell freely down his face from unblinking eyes. His fingers felt sickeningly uncomfortable with dried blood as they clamped around the wineglass that still stood beside the chair. Despite the tremors that wracked him, no drop was spilled when he lifted it to his lips and drained it without pausing for breath. The vessel clattered to the floor and Caruwyn dug the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. From some remote corner of his conscious, he could feel the dry streaks of blood that remained on his cheeks.

The memory of the night played over and over in his head like some surreal nightmare trapped on a broken record. He could still feel the sword throbbing heavily in his hands as it swept threw the air in one deadly stroke. Everything thereafter played out in slow motion before his eyes. He watched his father's body slump down as if through water, heard the sound of his head thud to the floor with a resounding echo that would forever haunt his dreams.

* * *

Caruwyn stood over his sire's fallen body, eyes ablaze in horror at what he just done. Dark blood leaked slowly over the floor, as if trying to crawl away from him, and the blue glow that had enveloped the cold room flickered to orange. His fingers dropped the sword to join the body and it struck the hard floor with a metallic clang. Falling down hard on knees that failed to provide him further strength jarred his bones and the dam that held his scorching tears finally broke open. Not a sound could escape him; no words of prayer of any kind inspired him. His guts wrenched as if fighting the black hole that spread inside him; his muscles drew together painfully tight as he stared down. Icy fingers grasped his heart and ran up his spine but he sat unmoving, willing himself to wake up. The air only seemed to grow colder.

Caruwyn hadn't realized that he held his breath until a choke shattered the silence and he nearly gagged on his lack of oxygen. Tiny bursts of white light flitted in his vision. He was crying aloud now, moaning in pain and rocking on his knees. His arms felt as though they moved on their own, his body reacting when his mind could not. But when his hands found his father's head and pressed it to his chest, the pain seemed to ease and his tears slowed. He raised it from his embrace and pressed a brief kiss of farewell to the cold forehead.

The strength to stand seemed to come to him then and he did, but not before he had the beheaded body gathered in his arms. With eyes cast to the floor, Caruwyn left the cursed room and strode forlornly down the long hallway toward the great doors. He had barely noticed when they spread apart on their own as he neared, and cold night air greeted his wet face with a somber kiss.

Caruwyn knelt beside the grave bearing his unknown mother's body, gazing at the flowers as they swayed lightly upon the gentle breeze.

"Your love returns to you, mother," he whispered and laid Meier's head and body upon the earth. "Please guide him safely back to your side."

For hours that passed unheeded, Caruwyn shaped another grave beside that flowered knoll, taking care not to disturb any of their fragile places. Then, when the earth was returned to its place, raised slightly higher above its new companion, Caruwyn carefully unearthed a single, silver chisuna that rested headmost at Charlotte's grave, no doubt the first one planted there by his father's hands on this very night many years ago. With deliberate care, he placed the flower's roots into the head of the freshly wrought grave and recovered them, pressing the earth firmly in place.

"Rest in the peace you've sought for so long," he bade the site of his mourning and stood wearily. After a long look at the stars above, Caruwyn set back inside, away from them that seemed as watching eyes.

* * *

The fire crackled loudly and frazzled the youth's nerves. Shaken, he looked up at it and became suddenly afraid. He had never been so completely alone in all his life. Where was he to go now? His gaze flitted about the room. Every corner, every piece of furniture seemed to mold and rot before his eyes. Stifling a gasp, he turned his wild eyes back to the flames, which had now become liquid, seeping red ooze from the hearth toward his feet.

Caruwyn jumped up and backed away from the illusion in fright while the air around him grew dense and stagnant, fragrant like the thick scent of dead chisuna left too long in storage. His senses swirled and he gripped the sides of his head, forcing his mind to make the phantoms disappear. When his eyes reopened, much to his relief, they did. Caruwyn sighed and realized that he could not stay in the place that would set his dreams and nightmares for many years to come. He disdained the realization that he had to leave, one way or the other. This was, after all, the only place he had known since his birth and the attachments he had to it were greatly embedded in his being. But it no longer seemed to be his own, no longer the place that captured his innocent wonder at the intricacies of life.

He had been an adventurous child, always seeking out the answers to the numberless questions that boggled his young mind. Caruwyn laughed softly to himself at the memories. How he felt sorry for his father who was always the target for the barrage that came from his insatiably curious mouth. But the vampire had just smiled.

Of the things Caruwyn loved to do most with his father his single favorite was to sit and talk aimlessly while watching those graceful, long-nailed hands carve stones into wonderful shapes. Though he had found an interest in sculpture, he had never really wanted to try it himself. He was thoroughly content to watch his father create the strange creatures that would later fall into his own hands as "gifts".

So lost in memory that Caruwyn did not even realize he had been wandering through the house until he stood in the doorway of Meier's drawing room. The candles there flickered up brightly in response to his arrival. The table in the center of the room was dusty and scattered pieces of jagged rocks littered its surface. Picks and metal files of various sizes rested neatly on the smaller notched table beside it. Caruwyn edged his way to the cluttered table and ran a finger over the largest of the faintly glittering rocks, the feel of it filling him with compulsion. Settling down upon the stool before the table, his fingers found a pick and hammer and he set to work.

He had often looked upon the mysterious gravestone in the yard, admiring the wonderful elegance captured in the engravings. Caruwyn shaped those same lines into his creation, a marker to match the skill and artistry of his father's. Time once again failed to have any meaning as he carved. The candles burned low when he finally pulled away and gazed at his work. After all these years, he had the talent after all.

The gravestone was a perfect replica of Charlotte's, the eternal chisuna framing his father's name radiating the same passion and suffering as their engraver. But he could only be proud of his achievement in the respect that there would be no doubt that the one belonging to the marker and its companion were but two to a whole to anyone that might look upon them in the future. Though he had never met any of the other vampires Meier claimed to live in this world, he knew there was a kind of bond among them. They respected each other's privacy and thrived in peace. Perhaps they'd felt Meier's sorrow and would come to pay their respects in that future. The thought comforted him.

Caruwyn took another long look around the room from the threshold of the doorway. He imagined boughs of trees growing through the walls, dropping their velvety leaves to the grass-covered floor below. The image brought a faint, sad smile to his lips. With that, he turned and left the room forever, the candles extinguishing in his absence.

Returning to the night, Caruwyn felt strange, as if weight lifted from his step despite the heavy stone he burdened. As he fixed the beautiful gravestone into its eternal place in the earth, he could summon no tears. But a soft voice eased through his silent pain to fill his mind and he closed his eyes to listen to it.

"_Take the sword, and with it you shall find your own path. A life awaits you far away. Be cautious in your step, but do not despair, for in the paths of all, there lies one great happiness if they should choose to see it."_

The last words faded as they spoke. The sound of the voice was unfamiliar to Caruwyn, but he sensed a certain warmth and safety in it that he could not distrust if he tried. He touched the blue stone hanging about his neck and felt assurance flow into him through is fingers. The gem almost felt alive. The albino stood and bowed, blessing the graves of his parents one last time before returning inside.

He entered his own quarters and sought a change of clothes in the nearly bare closet. His eyes found one of pale blue that he immediately favored at the moment. After changing, he folded his black frockcoat and pants and placed them neatly on the bed. To the unknowing eye, they might have looked as though their owner would return. Caruwyn reflected on this for a moment and left the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

His feet carried him to the cold bedroom where blood still lay everywhere. His hesitance was brief, however, as he leaned down to take up the fallen sword from the floor. The empty little box stained in deep red caught his attention upon the dresser. He strode to it and studied it thoughtfully. The trinket was laid upon the floor to mingle with Meier's blood before Caruwyn walked from the room and toward his future.

* * *

The ship looked ominous even against the vast night sky. Towers adorning its edges rose proudly and darkly toward the heavens, growing taller as he neared. The thing was intriguingly majestic and Caruwyn wondered if there was still architecture similar to it in the place from which it came. The thought instilled a sense of hope as the lift rose and took him to the control room within the vessel's heart. Once inside, he set down the knapsack of bottles full of chisuna wine he had thought to prepare for his journey and studied the controls. They were easier to set than he had initially thought and with a pull of a lever the great ship rumbled to life. The foundations of the entire planet seemed to rock and sway with the ship as it lurched slowly but powerfully from the solid ground.

Caruwyn seated himself before a window of the vessel with his sword resting on his knees. The stars shifted downward and he felt his body grow heavy as the heaving force around him eased into the sky and toward the unknown. Strong anticipation filled him, but whether it was from fear or excitement he couldn't tell. Perhaps it was both.

The place of his birth and the only place he had ever known receded further and further into the distance below him as he watched, running his fingers absently over the sword. One finger strayed and the sharp blade nicked his skin. Caruwyn looked down at his wounded finger and sucked at the small bead of blood that appeared. It was then that he really looked at the fine weapon upon his lap. The blade itself was long and slim, curving slightly away from the sharp edge. Its hilt was small but accommodating for his hand. The tarnished silver melded down into the blade; their connecting point flared out as if sharp thorns grew out at that point. It was surely quite old, but remained sharp through its age, its beauty withstanding neglect. Next to the blue stone he wore, it instantly became Caruwyn's most prized possession, despite the tragic resolve it had seen to.

Through the new emotions and feelings that the youth was subject to, the devastating heartache of loss remained deep, perhaps his only reminder of the place he was leaving. Caruwyn stood and approached the window to watch the stars melt slowly into black eternity. The City's moons became tinier and tinier as the ship plunged on until they were finally eaten by blackness. It was gone forever. There was no direction to look now but forward.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	8. Strangers

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Strangers **

* * *

'Father, is this what you wanted of me? Is this really what I'm meant to do? Why is it so cold?' Caruywn found himself trying to speak but no words escaped his lips. The flickering light that donned his sire's expressionless face wavered like a beacon in the empty blackness around him. The wraith's golden illumination melted to silver-gray and floated just out of reach from the youth's outstretched arms. 'Please don't go away again. Tell me what I'm supposed to do!' He implored silently, on the verge of panic at the idea of being left alone in the all-encompassing darkness. The spirit smiled with tremendous sadness before it winked out against his plea. The dread he felt yielded to an immense sensation of power, while blinding indigo light burned inside him.

* * *

The sudden jarring movement and sounds of churning gears of metal against metal made Caruwyn jump to his feet, fully awake and gripping the hilt of his sword in readiness for any danger. The ship groaned and shook and the albino fell to his knees, the bone-rattling sensations beneath him doing little to ease him from his dream into the present world. He hunched low and spread his knees apart to keep from toppling over altogether. Just as his mind cleared of the images that recently lingered in his head, he noticed the bright light filtering into the small control room and realized that it was no illusion.

Jerking his head up against the tugs and pulls of the settling vessel, Caruwyn beheld a vision of magnificence even his dreams had never conjured. A sky so pale blue behind the spotting of clouds it hurt his eyes. He squinted in shock but could not bring himself to close them for fear he would miss it. A flock of frightened birds darted past the window in escape from the giant beast that invaded their peace. Bright red eyes wandered in spite of the light when catching sight of them. In the brief moment he had, Caruwyn studied the curves of their glorious wings, their shining feathers and small bodies. Though he had never seen them before, he recognized them. One of the forms wrought by his father's intricate carvings. He mourned their swift departure.

A final jerk wracked his foundations and nearly forced his face hard into the floor. He saved himself with his hands and the ship finally settled on solid ground. With the caution of one suddenly thrust into unfamiliar surroundings, the youth lifted himself to his feet and the scenery of the new world lay framed before him.

Seemingly endless stretches of meadows and hills covered in glittering white harboring bare and thinly foliaged trees greeted his eyes with their brilliance beneath a sunlit sky. He crept closer to the window, mouth agape. Below, at the base of the ship, lay dark chunks of stone, cracked and scattered about as if a great structure had once been there. His eyes scanned them and immediately fell on one that distinctly bore the mocking face of a beast, though weathered by both time and the elements. The half-breed stared at all he could from the window before deciding that it wasn't enough. Taking up the sword and his humble knapsack of wine, he headed for the ship's lift.

It was comforting to feel the cold fresh air that met him when he pushed the glass doors apart and stepped outside. But the mild warmth of the sun on his pale skin was a pleasant surprise. A mix of sensations caught him motionless and he simply felt, thinking the enchantment mingled on the cold breeze would carry his soul away. Densely lashed eyes reopened slowly and Caruwyn turned to the view at his back. Thickening gray clouds swollen with burden moved like a sodden blanket over the endless sky toward him, bringing promises of storms. But the wonder they wrung from him could not compete with the view that lay beyond the edge of the massive cliff upon which he stood. A deep valley covered in stark white stretched far into the distance, its hills and distant mountains ghostlike in the wintry mist that hung in the air. A frozen river cut through the land like a crystal vein. On its surface lounged several large birds that circled a shimmering breach in the ice ceremoniously. Caruwyn' lips curled into a smile as his keen eyes studies their earthy colors that matched the naked skeletons of the trees around them.

He climbed atop a nearby slate-colored boulder and reveled in the dizziness from being so high above such a vast majestic scene. Catching a few rogue strands of hair, the wind danced about his face. Dazzling sensations of color filled him and he half believed he could just jump from that perch and glide over the frozen valley as naturally as he could walk. Surely this was the essence of life.

So caught up on the sensations surrounding him, Caruwyn did not notice the breeze that stirred about his body and swirled dead leaves in swift spirals just beneath his outstretched arms until he felt them scrape lightly against his fingers. Startled, he looked down and saw the strange play just before the leaves were whisked over the cliff's edge. He watched until they disappeared before flopping down on the rock and straining to reach his course sack of wine bottles. He hauled it beside him and twisted open the first bottle his hands could steal. The sweet-sour rush prickled his tongue to life and he savored it while watching the clouds sweep inexorably closer.

The sky had dulled considerably with its sagging occupants as Caruwyn drained the last few drops of wine into his mouth. Feeling pleasantly warm and renewed, the fear for his unknown trek subsiding, Caruwyn left the ruins and started in the direction that felt most comfortable after bidding the grand view and his ship a fond farewell. The desolate landscape before him seemed to be carved from fragile dreams as he walked, as ready as he could ever be for whatever lay in store for him.

The glorious sights and sounds relieved him of any concept of time as he wandered, like a child taking his first steps in the large world so filled with mystery and intrigue. He was dismayed when the few scraggly creatures whose paths he crossed scampered away before he could approach them. He longed to know what their fur would feel like on his fingers.

As the effects of the wine began to wear off, Caruwyn increasingly noticed the cold that had not been ignoring his inappropriately dressed body. The first of his shivers wriggled from his spine and he was again weary. Like an omen from unseen guardians, several snaking streams of smoke appeared beyond the high hill, his next obstacle, and Caruwyn breathed with relief. The fear of the unknown was quickly replaced by excitement to see the humans, but cold and fatigue did not subside. The steel of the sword's hilt burned his skin as if trying to merge into his hand and his step hurried a pace.

* * *

The black-clad hunter spurred his grunting beast harder over the steep snow-covered hills, cursing the dense fluff that slowed his progress.

"Ok, tell me again why we're heading in THIS direction? There's nothing out here but more snow," the disgruntled parasite moaned and fought back its shivers without much success.

"I told you. I sensed a disturbance. I may be wrong but I want to know one way or the other," D said evenly and the parasite wondered if he even felt the stinging cold.

"My bet's on the other. What in the world do you think you'll find in the bloody ruins in the dead of winter?" the companion continued, though D had already stopped paying heed. "We should be finding a job somewhere and replenishing our funds instead of riding out into a frozen wasteland. You know, a nice room at an inn sounds pretty good right now." The thing sighed heavily. "But no, you have to go chasing after whims against your better judgment."

The parasite was far from surprised when its host kept his eyes steadily on the path and his mouth unmoving. It shivered again and withdrew in hopes of finding some semblance of shelter from the icy air.

Plumes of billowing white clouded the air behind the steed as it thundered down the hillside. By the time the ruins of the castle appeared, the sun had slipped behind the dark clouds in resignation. Fresh flakes of snow danced thinly in the air. But something other than the expected broken rocks and fallen towers bid greetings to his steady discomfort. Against the ominous sky thick with clouds was the vessel once borne to the City of Night. The dhampire's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of it and apprehension claimed the last of his doubt.

The mechanical beast reared in before it, dancing around the jagged stones that lay dangerously concealed beneath the camouflage of old snow. D slid from the beast and squinted up at the solid towers that reached toward the sky like sharp claws. There was no damage to be seen and no sign of life around it. He concentrated to the parasite.

"And what have you to say about this?" he said and lifted his hand so the roused creature could see for itself. There was a long silence. An apathetic snort sounded in the quiet and D knew it was forced.

"Must have been a glitch in its program. Maybe it returned here after reaching that city, if it ever got there at all," it said.

But even as D looked upon the forlorn structure jutting out against the bleak sky, he knew that it did not return unboarded. His eyes fell to the ground, searching. There. Leading southbound from the ship was a single set of footprints. His dread grew heavier.

"Tell me what you make of these," the half-breed said and pressed his palm flat to an indentation.

"Fairly recent, I'd say," the parasite concluded and said no more, lost in its own theories.

"I don't like this," D said and remounted. With his eyes fixed on the departing tracks, the dhampire rode as swiftly as possible, hoping that the snow would not spoil his lead. But all the while, old fears were unearthing themselves as he rode once more from the castle ruins.

* * *

The sun lingered low on the horizon though the colors he had expected to come of it never appeared. The sky was alive with falling snow and the moon was hidden; yet the reflection of the city street lamps in the air was more than enough to fill the dirty roads with light. Caruwyn walked gratefully into the town despite the odd stares he was already accumulating from the heavily bundled passersby.

He gazed up at the simple architecture of the quaint houses and shops, their roofs burdened with snow. A woman sweeping the powder away from her steps halted her task to openly gape at him as if he were a specter. Indeed, he probably did appear as one because of his colorless skin and pale garments. He nodded briefly to her and shuffled on. He didn't know exactly where he was going but the gnawing hunger in his stomach told him to find a place to regain his strength. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a panicked young boy who was gasping for breath in his race.

"Oh! 'Scuse me mister," the boy stammered and gasped when he saw Caruwyn's red eyes gazing down at him in wonder. The child's eyes enlarged thrice their normal size and he sped off again, if not more hurriedly than before. Caruwyn watched him fly over the snow and around the corner.

Shrugging, he hefted his knapsack to a more comfortable position over his shoulder and continued his search. Up ahead he spotted an establishment with warm welcoming lights of gold illuminating its doorway. He felt drawn to that place. As he stepped lightly over the crunching ice beneath his feet a scream rang out. It startled him but piqued his curiosity. He drew closer to the inn and stopped before the ally next to it where a group of frenzied people had gathered. Standing on his toes to see over their heads, not daring to get too near, he sought the source of the outburst. In the center of the murmuring bodies was a woman cradling an unconscious girl of about eight whose dress was torn and one ponytail on the side of her head fell limp on her neck.

"What kind of sorcery is this?" the woman cried out and hugged the child close.

A man pushed past the intrigued albino and worked his way through the crowd to meet her. He wore an air of authority over the others, whom Caruwyn correctly assumed were nothing more than common villagers.

"Ok, Maam. Tell me what happened here," he said and stooped to rest a hand on her trembling shoulder. She looked wildly into his eyes.

"I'd like to know the same! I sent my daughter out to buy some things and she never came back. I went to look for her and I found her right here lying in the snow. She's not dead but she won't even answer me! What's wrong with her?" the distraught woman cried and pushed the heap of a child into the man's arms.

"I assure you we'll do everything we can," he said and didn't look too happy at the night's turn of events.

Caruwyn studied the scene for a little while longer before the nagging cold of his muscles reclaimed his attention and he turned back toward the inn. He did not notice when a few of the spectators on the edge of the crowd eyed him uneasily.

The place was not quite ill lit but remained bright enough to give the appearance of cheerfulness. Caruwyn looked about and felt the momentary scrutiny of the diners' attention laid on his face before resuming their engagements. The innkeeper noticed his arrival and dropped his damp bar rag to greet the new customer. The smile on the stout man's face was reassuring.

"Welcome, friend! Traveled far this eve?" he asked and extended his hand out. Caruwyn looked at it with confusion but extended his own and found it firmly latched onto by the cheerful innkeeper.

"Yes I have," Caruwyn answered.

The man gave him a quizzical look. "Where ya from, if ya don't mind my askin'? It's just that yer accent is a bit odd, even fer the sorts comin' to this place."

Caruwyn searched frantically for a reply. He didn't want to appear even stranger than he already was and stalling wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Just a small village north of here. Though I travel to all sorts of places."

The man nodded with interest and scratched at his unshaven face before his eyes wandered to the sword in Caruwyn's hand.

"Fine weapon ya got there. Looks like it needs a bit of polishin' though."

Caruwyn nearly forgot that he held the deadly object in plain sight. "Oh, yes. Thanks. But I'll not be using it anytime soon."

The innkeeper's weary glance melted as quickly as it appeared. "Well, ya come to the right place anyhow! I'll fix ya up for the night," he said and clapped a hand to Caruwyn's shoulder, leading him to an empty table.

The albino sat down and the man hurried off. When he returned he carried with him a large mug that seemed to shake the table when it landed.

"Best wine in all o Southbridge! I'll wager ya've not tasted wine this good in yer travels abroad neither," he proclaimed proudly and waited to hear his verdict true.

Caruwyn cautiously took a sip and smiled his approval at the man.

"See? Wha'd I tell ya? Nobody beats Smipole's wine!" The stout innkeeper laughed heartily. "Now what is it ya'd like to have tonight, good sir?"

"Whatever you'd recommend. Your tastes are obviously quite good," Caruwyn answered.

That pleased the man further. He smacked the table and laughed again before announcing his hasty return with the best dish in the house.

Caruwyn was grateful for the man's kindness in that strange place. He saw the other customers watching him from the corner of his eye but quickly looking away when he turned his gaze upon them. He worked at his wine, refusing to let it bother him. But the dark set of eyes that latched onto his back would have unnerved him at once if he had seen them.

The man kept his promise. "That's venison and my wife's own recipe for potatoes. Ain't a man alive who can refuse em!" he said and set the hot plate on the table. "Now if ya need anything else just wave me on over."

"Thank you, Smipole," Caruwyn answered.

"Just call me Jack. Everyone else round here does," he said and gave a wide smile before tending to his other customers.

The food was quite good, which was anything but odd considering the one taste he had known all of his life. And it was even more intoxicating than the chisuna. Caruwyn felt nauseous as he ate but the taste of the rare meat was too addictive to stop. The venison was gone and the potatoes were hardly touched when the man returned.

Jack eyed his plate. "No good?" he asked, nearly beside himself.

"Oh no. Everything was perfect. It's just been a long time since I last ate," Caruwyn relpied.

Jack's face shifted to one of surprise. "Usually that's when they eat the most. But to each his own." He tilted the heavy pitcher he had brought and refilled the albino's cup. "Ya wanna book a room now, stranger?"

"A room?" Caruwyn repeated.

"Fee's not bad at all. Better deal than all the other inns ya've seen I'd wager."

"Fee? What's that?" Caruwyn asked having never heard the word before.

The stout man leaned closer and his cheerful voice became low and even. Almost dangerous. "You tellin' me you got no money?"

The sudden change over the innkeeper's personality made Caruwyn uneasy. "I . . . I just . . ." He feared the worst. His first encounter with the humans had already gone awry. He began to edge his hand toward his sword.

"No need for such an attitude, Smipole. I'm taking care of it."

Caruwyn and the innkeeper both sifted their surprised gazes to the tall dark man standing beside the table, holding out several gold and bronze coins in his long-fingered hand. His hair was long and black, bound back high on his head with its ends cascading over his left shoulder. The hooded cloak he wore was dark and tattered as if it had seen countless years of wear.

And his face . . . Caruwyn nearly stopped breathing when he saw it. The man's skin was pale but far more colored than his own tone of stark white. His features were chiseled to remarkable perfection as if a master sculptor had wrought him. He looked nothing like the other humans he had thus encountered. He was far more beautiful.

The innkeeper snorted with disapproval and swiped the coins from the young man's hand. "Always poppin' up like a damned ghost, Manx. I don't like it."

"Of course not. And that's why I'm here," the mysterious man said and smiled when Smipole shot him a look of bitter disgust and shuffled away muttering. The stranger's attention turned to the half-breed. His shining eyes matched the deep black of his hair.

Caruwyn was at a loss for words but the man permitted himself a seat across the table. He sat smiling and studying Caruwyn with growing interest.

"Usually people say thank you or something along the lines of," he said and Caruwyn quickly looked down at his hands in embarrassment.

"Yes. Thank you. But why did you do that?" the albino asked.

The dark stranger shrugged and shifted to rest an arm high up on his chair's back. "Maybe it's because I knew you had no money the minute you walked in here. Maybe I felt some sympathy for you." His onyx eyes shifted to the glittering blue of Caruwyn's pendant but did not linger long enough to seem suspicious like those of a conspiring thief. "As you've heard from our stout friend, I'm Manx. And you?"

"Caruwyn," the half-breed replied and looked again into those strange dark eyes. Something about them pulled him in, the way a whirlpool inevitably sucks down an injured fish.

"Caruwyn," the dark man repeated and continued to study his companion unashamedly. "And what brings you to this unseemly dive of a town?"

"Nowhere better to go," the dhampire answered and began to feel tense under Manx's hot gaze.

"I see. A drifter? Or maybe an exile?"

"Perhaps both. Though I really was in no mood to discuss my past tonight," Caruwyn said and stood, suddenly eager to get away from the gorgeous eyes that boldly devoured him. "Thank you again for what you've done. But I've no way to repay you."

Manx's eyes fell once again to the blue stone at the albino's neck. Caruwyn noticed and touched it defensively. "I cannot part with this. It's as dear to my as my very soul."

A half smirk appeared on Manx's lean face as he bent forward. "And aren't those the sweetest things of all?"

Caruwyn had no idea what he meant and remained silent, reaching to withdraw his sword that rested propped beside the table.

Manx's eye caught it and he leaned back. "I really don't care for any payment just now. Perhaps, if you are a skilled swordsman, I could find means to employ you when you've tired of wandering," he said and smiled charmingly.

"I know nothing of swords, but I seek to learn." Caruwyn said and shifted his knapsack over his shoulder again.

"You're leaving to go out in that bitter cold when I've paid your way into a room with a blazing fire?" Manx said more amused than disbelieving.

"I'm not yet used to the warmth here. I came from a very cold place. I'd feel more comfortable in the forest, at least for a little while until I can adjust."

Manx stood and regarded Caruwyn carefully. "When you're ready, find me again. I'll teach you all you could desire to know."

Even to Caruwyn's innocent ears, there seemed to be more subtext in that message than what was clear. But he bowed to the dark man in genuine gratitude. "We'll meet again. I'll not ignore my obligation to you for this."

"I would like nothing more," Manx said smoothly and smiled again before returning to his own table.

* * *

The night was not much colder than when he arrived but he did regret giving up the prospects of a fire. But being around the strange Manx and the disgruntled Smipole did not sound too wise tonight. He wandered through the sleeping town and reached the opposite gate, pausing to weigh the sight of the looming trees against the warm town lights. He wouldn't wander too far, he decided, and stepped into the new forest.

After much aimless wandering, he found a level clearing surrounded by pine trees and sat in the snow, staring at his sword as he held it out before him. He suddenly wished he knew how to use one for more than just slicing off heads. The thought troubled him and renewed anger and grief flooded his senses. But from beneath these emotions came a subtle tingling, like raw power buried beneath the clutter. His eyes widened as he let go of the blade and it did not fall to the ground.

* * *

D reined in his horse to a slow walk as he entered the north gates of Southbridge. The snow eventually ate up the trail he followed, but being as this was the closest civilization, it seemed obvious that the being in question would come here. He tromped through the narrow lanes and halted before the first lively tavern he found. The best place to get gossip was from a drunkard's mouth.

He walked inside casually, nodding politely to the barkeeper but not removing his hat. Instantly, a drunken man with a bright red nose latched onto him and gaped at his sword.

"Whoa buddy. You here for trouble?" he slurred.

"Only if necessary," D replied.

"You're one of them vampire hunters, ain't ya? I always recognize your kind. You shown up in good time. Rumor has it there's a vampire or some kinda demon loose round here. Took a young girl today," he continued in an all-knowing air.

"Is that so," D said in a voice that showed no interest, though he listened more intently.

Another man had overheard the conversation and added in from his chair, "Damn right. Heard a strange pale guy came into town just as it happened too. They say he could vanish into the snow."

"What? That's not what they said," the drunk that hung onto D exclaimed and staggered over to argue with the other man. "They juss said he had no color."

D turned and left the tavern, slightly annoyed. So there was someone after all. And a vampire as well. D began to think about Meier Link and his mortal wife. Surely she could not survive very long away from the sun without being turned, if she lived at all. Perhaps he had returned to seek vengeance for her death upon those who would not leave them in peace, which could be any human he crossed. They did say he was very pale. Surely it had to be Meier. The ship's reappearance was evidence enough.

D growled in anger and jumped up into his horse's saddle and spurred it toward the south gate of town. He cursed himself for letting them go. He should have known that something like this would happen. Charlotte's death probably made the vampire mad with a desire for revenge.

A fresh set of footprints identical to those leading away from the ruins of Chaythe led into the deep forest. D slowed a quiet gallop, wanting to keep the element of surprise in case the vampire was still near. Just ahead in the distance he saw a figure resting in the snow. It was difficult to see in the night but the reflected light from snow to clouds made shapes at least distinguishable. D leapt silently from his horse and drew his sword before lightly approaching the figure before him. From the light he had, it was obvious that the being was indeed very pale with white hair. Though it was much longer than he remembered Meier's as being.

As he stepped into the edge of the clearing behind the figure, the sight before him stopped him dead for a moment as his mind tried to comprehend. The man had a sword raised into the air before him, twisting it in circles to catch the scarce light about them. Only no hands touched the blade.

But he remembered the words of the townsfolk about the child victim. Both in anger and the pulsing urgency of his sworn oath to destroy those that took the lives of others, he surged forward. With lightening-quick speed, he gained advantage above the still figure with his sword pressed firmly against its throat. The sword that hovered before the white man fell dully into the snow.

"Tell me who you are," D commanded dangerously.

The even voice that replied was not Meier's. And the reply echoed nothing like one the proud vampire would say.

"Perhaps I'd rather you slice my throat."

D kept the hold of his sword against the man's neck perfectly steady and swung himself down and around to look into the face belonging to the sorrow-laden voice. He would certainly not kill without good reason and perhaps this was not the one he sought after all. But all the reason he had left him when he looked into the face whose features were a distinct combination between those of Meier and Charlotte. Their son. Another dhampire. For a moment, D's heart stopped beating.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	9. Confrontation

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Confrontation**

* * *

The two half-breeds stared silently at one another, everything else around them wavering and disappearing. A cold wind streamed between their still bodies and carried away the steam that trailed from scarcely breathing lips, but neither shivered. The dense forest enclosing that clearing grew unnaturally still as if the trees themselves waited in anticipation for what was to come.

D held his sword firmly against the albino's throat but suddenly forgot why he was there at all. He was locked in the ruby eyes before him that seemed to glow like embers in the moonlight peeking timidly from its wintry curtain. His gaze from them broke reluctantly and traveled slowly over the curves of the younger man's face. The thin rays of moonlight cast his skin and hair in an almost silver tone. In that endless moment of forgetfulness, D saw a blazing beauty that lay buried deeper than that which glittered on the crimson eyes now regarding him with equal wonder. He recalled the way the stranger's sword had spun so strangely in the air but decided to let it be for the time. There were more important matters to see to . . . if only he could remember just what they were.

The presence of the blue thing about the youth's neck caught his eye and D beheld the sapphire-like jewel. Even in the darkness he recognized it as identical to the one ever present about his own neck. The sight of it surprised him and he momentarily lost his concentration as his sword bit shallow into the albino's throat. To D's astonishment, as he realized what he had done, the stranger did not cry out in alarm or pain. The trickle of red at his blade made the hunter quickly withdraw his weapon, looking to see the pale creature's reaction. But the youth's eyes were closed, his pale lips slightly parted as if he had meant what he said and waited for it with welcome.

Caruwyn opened his eyes and lifted his hand to touch the hot wound in his throat. He was almost disappointed to find his head still intact. He looked at the dark being before him and studied once again the dark eyes, sharply cut features and long hair. Caruwyn remembered his father's recount of the dhampire who had tried to kill him and resigned to allow his parents' escape for the stars. There could be no doubt about it. This was that very hunter. Caruwyn inwardly laughed with disdain at the irony that he should find that very one his first night on the human's planet. Perhaps he would not see another. But the revelation remained silent within, churning with slowly rising anger and grief.

"I was hoping for a deeper cut," Caruwyn said instead.

"You may get your wish," D replied as the moon cowered behind the clouds again, "if you don't tell me who you are and what your purpose is." Of course the hunter knew very well the answer to the first question, though he could not wholly believe it himself. No, he would not believe it until he was forced to. He would keep this confrontation as strict business for as much time allowed to him.

"Why should I tell you?" Caruwyn said in a voice edged with bitterness. He imagined his father's mourning when he believed his beloved dead as he fought vainly with the vampire hunter. Perhaps this hunter believed it also and found satisfaction when he knew Meier was lost and broken. Caruwyn's eyes narrowed.

"Is it true you're a vampire?" D asked lowly.

"I am no different than you." His revelation slipped before he was ready.

D stood tall and pointed the sharp tip of his sword at Caruwyn's chest. "And what makes you believe that?"

Caruwyn glared at the other half-breed. He could not imagine why or how the hunter had tracked him down and stood ready to kill him. He sat steadily and said nothing. When he sensed the other draw breath to speak again, he snatched up his sword and jumped back in the space of a heartbeat, holding it in a defensive position. He cursed the cold that betrayed his shivers; he couldn't allow this man think he was intimidated. But Caruwyn had only a fraction of a second to block the first blow that fell heavily against his sword.

D pressed his weapon into the albino's, studying his movements. Their swords scraped terribly in the wild silence before Caruwyn gave a hard shove and pushed D's weapon away, dropping to a crouch and swinging his blade right for the dark hunter's knees. D saw the swift movement and parried the blow with a few spirals of his own blade, throwing Caruwyn balance off and his sword aside into a drift of snow. The tip of D's weapon was pressed at Caruwyn's heart again when he pushed himself back up.

"I'll give you this one last chance. You've obviously never used a sword before so I recommend you start talking," D said coolly.

"Why are you bothering me? I haven't done anything," Caruwyn growled.

"I've heard otherwise from the people of the village back there. They say that a vampire attacked a young girl today. You seem to match their description quite well."

Caruwyn remembered the scene in the alley and damned himself for stopping to satisfy his curiosity. Of course they would assume it was him. The eyes in the inn's tavern did not conceal their astonishment and uneasiness well at the sight of him.

"I've never harmed anyone," the albino replied and sank into a slump, wholly at the intruder's mercy. "You are mistaken."

D remained quiet and pondered over the curious being at his feet. The youth's behavior was like none he had ever witnessed in one who had the bloodlust. Perhaps the townspeople were mistaken in their accusations; maybe the girl fell due to some sickness or was not dead at all. It was not an unlikely possibility, for the half-breed did look very unusual. The attention that the youth caught was doubtfully any more different than that lain on his own strangely and almost unnaturally beautiful features. Perhaps he had come into this world untainted.

When D spoke again his voice was softer. "Why did you invite your death a moment ago?"

The question caught him completely off guard and Caruwyn looked up in pure surprise. His mouth opened instinctively to reply or voice his astonishment but he closed it again and looked back to the ground. D saw the unmistakable innocence in the other's response, confirming his doubt. He lowered his sword.

"You are not the one I seek," the hunter said. "Forgive my intrusion."

D sheathed his heavy weapon behind his back and began to walk away. He stopped at the snow bank and picked the strange sword from its powdery covering, looking it over with brief interest. He tossed it dramatically in the air and turned away before seeing it land point-buried in the ground before the pale youth.

"It's unfitting that you carry such a blade with your lack of experience," D said and continued to walk toward the trees. "Learn to use it."

Caruwyn watched his sword swagger before him before turning his eyes upon the hunter's departing back. He felt humiliated. Defeated. Anger boiled in his veins like burning hot wine.

"You leave without carving up my soul the way you did to Meier? How truly noble you are, Hunter," he spat before he could weigh his words and the effect they might have. The night grew oddly more silent, the kind of silence that that echoes painfully in the ears.

D stopped in his tracks. An endless moment of tension passed before he slowly turned to look again on the shivering half-breed. The confrontation just took the turn he dreaded and sought to avoid most. But Caruwyn was not sated.

"Was the reward worth it? I wonder how many others you've broken and left to suffer in torment without justice." The youth growled bitterly and felt the sting of tears come unwillingly to his eyes.

"You know nothing of the things you speak, child." D's tone was tinged with warning. But it was unheeded.

"I would be a fool to take anything you say as truth. You are a murdering deceiver that betra—"

Caruwyn's voice was crushed from his throat as D moved with the speed of a ravaged leopard and snagged the smooth column harshly in an iron grip.

"I advise you to still your words. It's not wise to let your mouth act before your mind," the dark hunter said with a glint of fury in his eyes.

Caruwyn felt the blood circulate without escape throughout his skull and struggled to breath. But he braved a look into the dark half-breed's eyes and locked them there. The tears of his pain rolled unfelt down his cold cheeks. To his surprise, the deadly fire that flared up in the dark eyes subsided and the grip around his throat eased away.

D remained crouched before him and gave in to the youth's pitiful state of agitation. He couldn't tiptoe around the subject any longer.

"I understood his pain more than you know. If I could somehow have altered their fates I would have. But nothing would have been changed even if I were not hired to take her back," he said quietly. "They were deceived by another." D watched Caruwyn shift his eyes to the ground as tears continued to slide down his smooth face. Much to his dismay, he could not ignore the increasing sense of pity it arose in him. He was almost tempted to touch the youth but resisted the urge. "Why did you come to this place?"

Caruwyn shook, his smoldering rage tempered by the other half-breed's tone that he never expected to hear from that particular mouth. All he had now was his grief, his aching weariness, and the cold. He didn't care any longer.

"I never got a chance to see my mother. Her death veiled my father's eyes with despair. I was forced to leave," Caruwyn professed. "But now I wish hadn't. This place is horrible. I should rather be alone with the graves of the only one I ever knew and the one I could never see or touch." He suddenly longed more than anything to be asleep and away from his present situation. Caruwyn lifted his shaking hands to bury his face in them, willing himself to disappear.

D was startled at the youth's naked emotional breakdown. He stood and began to depart from his concluded business but found his feet growing heavier with each step as if he treaded through thickening tar. The guilt over leaving the stranger so prone in the dangerous woods would not let him go. It steadily worsened.

The hunter stopped and sighed heavily, wishing the broken sobs behind him would silence. He could not unravel the meaning of what was coming over him but he could neither ignore it altogether. Something about that half-breed intrigued him despite his desire to simply let it alone and be on his way. The image of the spinning sword and sapphire-colored jewel haunted his memory. But D felt that there was much more to this ignorant youth than was plain and he had to learn of it if he was ever rest peacefully again. He turned in irritation and approached the younger dhampire once again to extend his hand down toward the shaking mass.

"Come. You can't stay out here all night," D said through gritted teeth. From the corner of his mind he could feel the parasite react with nothing short of shock but he pushed it aside. Caruwyn peered up at the hand awaiting him and laughed weakly.

"And where will you take me, oh esteemed hunter? To that wonderful demise you promised me?" the albino said and sat rigid.

D was nearly exasperated. "Even you can't outlast this cold. Now get up before I change my mind."

"I don't really care what you do," Caruwyn replied in matching apathy, remaining motionless.

D wanted so badly to slap that pale face with all his force. But instead he impatiently stepped away and Caruwyn thought he would simply leave. In the blurring graceful motion of that which silenced the stubborn youth's accusing words, D unsheathed his sword and rammed its hilt into the back of Caruwyn's head before the latter could react. The young dhampire's eyes rolled back and he blacked out instantly into the snow.

Hauling the lithe body into his reluctant arms, D sighed. He gathered up the other's sword and strode with his unwanted burden back toward his snorting horse. The snow began to fall more heavily than before, cluttering the air with lazy eddies of white down.

He pushed the unconscious albino onto the saddle and jumped up himself, tucking the sliver sword securely into his hip belt. He adjusted the youth to rest against him, feeling his body much colder than he'd thought. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the stranger at all but even less so for dealing with a frozen corpse.

As D pulled his cloak tight around himself and the young man against the biting air, the youth's weight pressed closer. His soft white-haired head fell back and rested heavily against the hunter's chest, the red eyes closed in a look of peaceful slumber. D studied the soft, strange features of the one sharing his saddle and cursed himself for feeling sorry toward the young man. His eyes fell once again to the stone at the creature's neck and he hesitantly reached to touch it.

As his fingers descended upon the smooth surface, D swore he saw the thing begin to glow. He blinked and removed his hand instantly before the dull light faded away. His eyes screwed up in puzzlement but he convinced himself the winter air was numbing his mind as well as body. Without another second wasted, he hugged the steed's sides with his heels and started the journey to the opposite end of the forest, for he doubted that Caruwyn would be well received again in Southbridge for a while. The next town beyond did not lie far if he remembered correctly.

"D?!" rasped a little voice from the whipping winds the horse created in its haste. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I thought you knew better than to trust a fresh pretty face. This kid could be dangerous!"

"He harbors something unusual within him. I have to find out what it is," D replied and kicked the steed harder.

"You're out of your mind. I don't sense anything but trouble in him. You're going to regret this. You know it. Just push him off and let him freeze to death," the parasite offered.

"You haven't figured out who he is yet?"

"Oh I figured it out, as unbelievable as it is. But why does that matter? Something about him bothers me, D. Why are you taking such a risk? He said he didn't attack that girl so he's innocent. Just let it be."

The dhampire Prince remained stern in his decision. The parasite was nearly frantic with confusion. What was it about the stubborn child of a half-breed that had D so worked up? It was all madness. Sure the kid was good-looking enough by the right standards, but D was the last person in the world to ever let himself be deceived by such common guises. The parasite had no doubts that there was indeed something strange about the pale half-breed but the harder it tried to touch the surface of these things, the more deeply troubled it was left. D had rarely shown that even more rare side of himself and the entity could not help but feel defensive. But nothing would change the iron-willed hunter's mind. Certainly not the parasite that shared his fate.

"Just be careful. He's an ignorant kid that could be easily swayed into corruption, if you take my meaning. I sense some serious disturbances already at work in him," the creature said with finality and dropped into silence.

D considered what the parasite said. Yes, it would be easy for one so young and alone to give into the feeding lust that occasions one with vampire's blood. But surely that was not the reason he had taken up the fallen youth? D was anything but a mentor. And though he would not deny the intensity of the younger man's grace, such trivial things would not tempt him. No, there was something more. Something truly unique that could become terrifying in time. D sensed this. But the puzzle remained an intricate challenge for him to piece.

As they rode through the thick wood, Caruwyn stirred slightly and pressed his head harder into D's chest, groaning. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and fell quiet again. D chanced another look down at the slumbering dhampire and felt that same comfortable emptiness he had experienced when their eyes first met in the clearing. The hunter shook his head. What could he find comforting in the presence of one the parasite had gone nearly frantic with agitation over?

The steed leaped unexpectedly over a fallen tree that crowded their path and landed hard. Caruwyn jerked and sagged dangerously toward the side of the saddle before D reflexively shot a hand around his waist to catch him. But the albino remained unconscious as he was steadied upon the horse again.

The parasite was none too pleased to find its master's arm still lingering there as they thundered into the quiet town miles from the forest edge.

* * *

The old innkeeper gave them a strange look as D dropped the last of his coins on the scarred and stained countertop.

"You need me to call a doctor for that one?" the frail man asked timidly from behind his comically bushy mustache and nodded toward Caruwyn, who lay still and, to the innkeeper's eyes, deathly pale.

"That's not necessary," D said and waited for the man to bustle his way around the counter and lead him toward the room.

The thin old innkeeper remained apprehensive of the dark and dangerous looking man that startled him awake at his entry from the dead night. At first he seemed to carry an injured old woman in his arms but upon closer inspection the man realized that it was in fact a very young man with unusually white hair. The dark blood at the neck of the unconscious man's clothing gruesomely caught his eye but he struggled to keep his attention away from it. What he didn't see couldn't get him in trouble later. But he still wasn't sure the pale one breathed.

The keys jangled in his weak hands as he turned the lock and pushed open the door, allowing himself in before his guests to start up a fire in the bleak hearth. When he was finished, the innkeeper hurried out the door without another word to the frightening black-clad figure that towered over him.

D set Caruwyn down on the bed by the warming fire and straightened with the intention to sit before the fire and let him rest. But the image of the pale youth with his stark white, long hair spread over the equally white pillow paused his step. D could see the traces of the other half-breed's parents mingling in exquisite harmony over his slightly flushed sleeping face. It was Meier's sheer paleness and masculinity meshed with Charlotte's soft yet fragile attributes. It was incredibly lovely. It was incredibly unnerving.

The sight of the dried blood at the untended wound reminded D of his previous carelessness. He stalked to the washbowl and wet a rag in the lukewarm water before spotting a roll of gauze next to it. He hadn't seen the old innkeeper set it there but was relieved at its presence. Returning to the main hall to request it at this hour did not sound appealing. The blood soaked lazily into the hungry cloth pressed at Caruwyn's neck. D lifted him away from the pillow and began to wrap the bandages carefully about his throat, not surprised that the skin there felt like liquid silk. But he didn't want to think about that at all. His task was quickly finished and he rested the youth back down, not realizing how much care was put into the act until his hands finished lingering on the soft hair that entangled them like thin ribbons. Dark eyes once again pondered the jewel that was a remarkable copy of the hunter's own pendant. Where had he acquired such a thing? D had never seen it on Meier's neck during their brief struggle. But still . . . it was strange to see them together.

The vampire hunter's stone was a parting gift from his father, the Lord of Vampires. He had simply been told that it was an ancient relic that came from a place far away and losing it meant ill tidings. So D kept it close for all his endless years and it became like an extension of his own body. He learned to twist and move in ways that became natural and protected the pendant in even the fiercest battles. So treasured it was to him. But now he had seen another and his curiosity for the young man intensified threefold in those scarce moments. D's eyes roved the young half-breed again before he tore himself away.

D inwardly chided himself and sat at the fire to thaw his frozen bones after setting the stranger's sword beside the bed. Vampires and their kin almost always carried a striking beauty in their favor. He had seen it countless times and destroyed them without a blink of an eye. Usually. But he never let even the most gorgeous of the cursed race get under his skin. No, beauty was a mask for something . . . unpleasant. Or dangerous. The mark of the devil, he had heard some call it and found himself agreeing more and more as his years passed. He would be cautious, but he had already known that. The parasite's warnings meant nothing to him.

The fire cracked and slowly ate at the fragrant pinewood that fueled it. Shifting weight on rusty springs turned D's head, curious to see if the albino had awakened. But Caruwyn remained in deep sleep, troubled by disturbing dreams no doubt as he tossed and muttered. D was tempted to listen but tried instead to focus on the sound of the flames.

"I cannot . . . please . . . don't make me do this . . . stop!" Caruwyn groaned uneasily and crunched his eyes tighter. "Father . . . don't tell me these things . . . don't go!" The albino rolled over and curled into a tight ball before screaming, "Noooo!"

D stood and cast a brief glance at the agitated sleeper before quietly slipping from the room, shutting the door behind him and slumping down against the wall next to it. He couldn't listen to that. Such slips made him feel like an eavesdropper over things he had no business knowing. Truly he had no idea what it was the stranger dreamt of, but even if it held clues it was not meant for his ears. D pulled the wide brim of his hat over his eyes and folded his arms across his chest before he settled as comfortably as possible against the hard wall. He could still hear Caruwyn's muffled screaming as he fell into his own uneasy slumber.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	10. A Silent Compromise

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Ten: A Silent Compromise**

* * *

The dull rays of a midwinter sun began to seep through the window when Caruwyn awoke. Dark red embers still lingered in the hearth and the scent of pine was heavy in the air. He sat up with a start and tossed his head toward each corner of the room but immediately regretted it. Throbbing pain spread from the back of his head and he swayed in dizziness. Gripping the mattress for support, Caruwyn squinted at the shining window, the events of the night before only a blur in his memory. He struggled to sift through them, to find a clue as to where he was but nothing productive became clear. He recalled the aching cold and the falling snow before a pair of dark eyes cut through the image. Caruwyn rubbed the back of his head. Who did those eyes belong to?

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and prepared to stand when an insistent itching played at his throat. He quickly checked to see that his pendant remained around his neck and found that he could hardly tilt his head. Touching the gauze wrapped around his throat was all it took. The dark hunter, the brief fight, the anger and pain. Caruwyn spotted his sword next to the bed and seized it, standing cautiously against his splitting headache. Everything after that confrontation with the vampire hunter was a black spot in his mind.

The doorknob to the small room twisted slowly, quietly. Caruwyn gripped the sword and stood, ready for the intruder to make his fatal mistake. But his eyes could scarcely focus. The door swung open and the dark-clad figure from his last memory stepped silently inside, closing the door behind him.

D saw the wild look of confusion in the youth's eyes as he stood with his sword pointed menacingly toward him and reacted quickly.

"I mean you no harm," D said and raised his hands to prove he had no intention of drawing his weapon.

"Who are you?" Caruwyn shot.

"I am D," the hunter replied and remained still, not wanting to provoke the other.

"Where have you brought me?" the albino spat and looked around nervously.

"Just a room. Out of the cold."

"I didn't ask for your favors," Caruwyn said, keeping his sword steady.

"No. But you would have died if I hadn't," D said and sensed the other half-breed relax.

Caruwyn slowly lowered the sword and sat on the bed's edge, pressing a hand to his throbbing head. The gash in his throat itched ferociously beneath its gauze wrappings but he was helpless to ease it. "Though you certainly didn't want me to come away comfortably, did you?"

"I apologize for that," D answered truthfully.

"No matter. You got what you wanted. Now what is it you want with ME?" Caruwyn said and looked defiantly into the hunter's eyes. "If it was just an act of charity then I'll be on my way."

Caruwyn rose with sword in hand and approached the taller dhampire who still stood before the doorway. But D did not move. The agitated young half-breed stopped and glared bravely at the imposing black-clad man.

"Get out of my way."

D gazed stonily at the brash youth until the latter turned his eyes down, face shifting into a look of muted frustration.

"Do you really think you'll survive out there, knowing nothing?" D asked darkly. He found that he could scarcely tolerate the younger man's arrogant insubordination.

"I'll manage," Caruwyn said dryly, his eyes still averted.

"Where do you plan to go?"

"What business is it of yours?" the albino snapped.

"None at all. But I doubt you'll get very far," the hunter declared.

"And why is that?"

"For one thing your appearance will draw immediate suspicion. What will you do if you have to defend yourself? Even if you could fight, there are very few humans that still use swords." D remained like a stone pillar in the young man's path. He believed what he said and doubted that the youth would survive the world knowing what little he did. And sending him out to his death was not something the hunter could easily do.

Caruwyn couldn't reply. He knew the vampire hunter was right. But standing there like a child receiving a lecture was extremely irritating. The albino bit his lip to keep from exploding in the tense silence that followed.

"Tell me your name, child," D finally commanded.

Caruwyn gritted his teeth and gripped the sword hilt so tight the skin of his knuckles stretched painfully. There was that word again. The pale half-breed decided that he loathed being given that label. But standing there saying nothing, as much as he wanted to, would not get him through that door.

"Caruwyn," he muttered. "Now if you'd kindly step aside, I'd like to leave."

"You haven't answered me about where you'll go," the older half-breed said flatly.

His grip felt as though it would simply shatter the hilt of his blade. It was all he could do to keep from striking out. The air around Caruwyn grew suddenly dense and thick with electric energy. D could physically feel the albino's growing frustration pricking the edges of both his nerves and mind like timid fingers.

"I am not your prisoner," the young dhampire growled dangerously yet eerily calm. As he spoke, the twin tapers adorning either side of the narrow mantle above the dusty hearth began to quiver before rising from their places and crashing down. The candles shattered into bits of hard wax and scattered over the floor.

D watched in hidden wonder. He turned his eyes back to the brash youth in search of some expression that would clarify what he had just witnessed but there was nothing there except angry ruby eyes and tightly clenched teeth. The young half-breed hadn't even noticed. D exhaled.

"As you wish. Though I would like to help you," D said and yielded his sentry-like position from the door. His eyes remained fixed on Caruwyn. He would allow the young man to do what he desired, as it was his right. But that nagging feeling that wormed within him at the idea of letting the other half-breed disappear began to creep again.

Caruwyn paused to reflect on what he assumed was an offer from the hunter. It took him completely by surprise. But his anger was still hot. He thought up several different replies but kept them silent as he tromped out the door.

D remained still, studying the broken candle pieces on the floor. He could have easily predicted Caruwyn's indignant reaction, but this was quite surprising. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly formed an island in his mind. Caruwyn surely had the gift of telekinesis, something he had seen very rarely in the race of humans.

He recalled one incident in his many employments—a young girl who had been acting strangely and frightened her parents into frenzy. He was called into her town purely by chance to carry out a simple job when the hesitant father heard of his visit and approached him. Claiming it as a spirit possession, as none of their doctor's treatments had worked, the man implored D to help in any way he saw fit. The hunter refused. He had no powers over the world of spirits. But the man begged for him to just look; perhaps the experienced hunter could offer some advice in the least. Obliging the distraught father, D went to their home and found the girl standing calmly in the center of her room, unflinching as objects swirled about her. She had smiled sadly at the black-clad hunter. D remained firm in his argument that he could not help, bade the parents his apologies and wished them well before setting out again. Several years later he heard that the girl was locked in an asylum.

The thought of Caruwyn carrying similar powers around the humans was anything but comforting. There could be no doubt about it. And it would explain the strange way the youth's sword spun in dead air last evening. The urge to keep a watchful eye on the young dhampire intensified in his absence.

"Damn," D muttered to himself and crunched a chunk of tallow beneath his boot.

* * *

Caruwyn stalked past the silent innkeeper whose eyes bore holes into his back and stepped into the frigid morning air. His breath came out in ragged puffs as he tramped the hardened snow in his frustration.

"Damn!" he said aloud and paced about, ignoring the startled looks from the passersby. Of course he had nowhere to go. What in the world would he do even if he did? It didn't seem likely that the humans would willingly lend stories for him to learn from. But isn't that why he came here? Why DID he come here?

Caruwyn shivered and glared at the pale sky, cursing himself. He wished he had worn warmer clothes at least. He thought with a trace of sadness to his forgotten knapsack of chisuna wine, suddenly craving its fuzzy warmth as it spread through his veins. A gaggle of geese crossed the sky to his right and he watched them soar away. He wondered how nice it must be to have the luxury of wings, to travel the skies unmolested by prying eyes and sour words. He kicked a clump of snow.

There was only one relatively productive choice for him. He could set out to gods know where and likely freeze to death or he could take up the hunter's offer. Unfortunately the latter was that choice.

The youth stopped pacing and forced himself calm, trying to find the good side of such an arrangement. The vampire hunter could surely teach him how to survive; he had endless years of experience as a half-breed among the race of man. And, just maybe, he could learn more about his parents and their ancestry. Caruwyn sighed heavily and propped himself against the inn wall to wait.

* * *

D bade the cowering innkeeper his thanks and exited the small inn, ignoring the restless parasite. It was too early to oblige its grumbling. The hunter stepped into the morning outside and began toward the inn stables. If not for his keen sense of sight, the monochrome quality of the gray sky glaring on snow-covered ground would have provoked D to walk right past the albino standing against the wall to his side.

D stopped in his tracks but did not turn.

"Changed your mind already?" he asked somberly.

Caruwyn pushed himself away from his resting spot and looked toward the sky where the geese had long disappeared.

"I was considering your offer. If what you offered still holds," the younger dhampire said, wondering if he was making a mistake as he spoke.

D pondered silently for a moment. "You may accompany me for a while. But stay out of my way when I require it." He had no intention of speaking further and plodded off toward the stables.

Caruwyn stared after him, his nerves bristling. Tightening his hold on his sword, he followed the hunter and fought his shivers. The stables were blessedly warm in contrast to the winter air as he stepped inside. A great black beast neighed and pranced at the sight of its owner and D extended his hand to smooth its mane. Caruwyn gaped at the creature. The hunter saw this from the corner of his vision but spared the youth his attention.

"It's not organic," D said as the beast nipped at his empty hand.

"Not organic?" Caruwyn echoed. His brow twisted in confusion. "But it looks so real."

D saddled the cyborg and lifted himself into it. His expectant glance fell to Caruwyn who took the signal and approached, eyeing the creature warily.

"He won't bite you," D said.

Caruwyn looked reluctant but closed the distance, not quite sure what to do. To his relief, the older dhampire extended his hand for Caruwyn to grasp and hoist himself behind the black rider. The horse trotted toward the stable door with its passengers while the young half-breed marveled at the strength he sat upon. A smile touched his cold lips.

At the threshold of their exit, D bent and swept up a dusty wool horse blanket before tossing it over his shoulder to his companion. Caruwyn accepted it wordlessly; the other dhampire's considerate gesture caught him off guard. Perhaps the vampire hunter was not as bad as he initially thought.

The albino barely had time enough to fix it securely around his back before the steed jolted into a sprint through the tiny village streets. His arms fastened in a death grip around D's waist as the ground whizzed by.

The hunter suppressed the urge to laugh and slapped the reins harder, allowing his strange companion to find stability at his expense.

Caruwyn braved an arm away from his source of balance to pull the musty horse blanket around his head, grateful for its shelter. From his cloak he watched the busy villagers pause their never-ending chores to stare at the strange pair that all but flew away from them. Caruwyn studied the blurs of their faces curiously. Women shied, men scowled, and children gaped as they stood at their broken fences and cracked doorways when the riders passed by. The fierce beast rounded the corner that led straight for the gate out of town.

The albino took one last look at village life for the time, not knowing when he'd see it again. He had no idea what D's way of life was. From what he gathered, he was more of an introvert than one to spend much time in human civilizations. That was fine with him. He could get used to just about anything if he wanted to. And perhaps he might grow to tolerate the vampire hunter's company. If the albino could convince the older dhampire that he was worth keeping around.

Caruwyn tossed his head to release a stray wisp of hair that fell in his eyes to the winds when something dark caught the corner of his vision. He whipped his head about to observe whomever or whatever it was when his glance beheld a glittering pair of onyx eyes peering out from a drawn hood attached to a great black cloak that draped massively over a tall figure. He had a mere second to see the man's face. But in that fleeting second he also saw the sinister smile that stretched over stark white teeth on that pale face. Why did he look so familiar?

The albino remembered the mysterious young man at the inn last evening that saved his hide from a certain angry innkeeper. Manx. The tall dark man with the searing gaze that could make a glacier melt. The memory of his presence made Caruwyn shiver but he chanced a glance back anyway. He wasn't sure if what he had just seen or what now lay before him was more unnerving. There was no one there.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	11. Lessons

**

* * *

Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Lessons**

* * *

The knife slid smoothly through the soft pale wood in Caruwyn's steady hands. He paused his work for a moment and gazed up at the stars embedded in a sky lit navy blue in the company of a full moon. They shimmered like diamonds in the sea of night and the memory of his father came to him. Caruwyn wondered if he was watching over his wayward son from some other plane beyond the boundaries of time. He smiled at the sky from beneath the shelter of the pear tree and resumed his carving. The bird's beak was coming along nicely.

It had been four months since he had joined D in his travels. The days that followed were tense at first, and they said very little to one another. Yet the vampire hunter willingly began to teach the young half-breed the techniques of sword fighting. But as the weather warmed, so did their acquaintanceship and D sometimes even gave in to Caruwyn's requests for tales about the Earth and the Great War. It was all very fascinating to the young man. He could sit for hours and listen to D talk if it was possible, but the dark man did not enjoy such activities enough to extend beyond an hour at a time and those sessions were almost always terribly formal and factual.

What was once anger and resentment toward the black-clad dhampire had gradually turned to respect and gratitude. The story of the battle with Carmilla had been closely tied to his father's version, and he knew that D was not prone to telling lies.

He was also an exceptional swordsman. Caruwyn had accompanied him on several hunts, though never on the ones meant for pursuing vampires. But the jobs he did get to see from the safety of the shadows were enthralling and made the youth all the more eager to learn how to fight. D's liquid grace as he dipped and swung his sword was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance in Caruwyn's eyes. He had never been as filled with emotion as he was when he gifted with the chance to see the vampire hunter fight.

Caruwyn learned a great deal about D himself as well, though the hunter had never said anything directly pertaining to his own history. It was in his habits, the way he spoke and hunted, and in his eyes. Sitting by a warm fire or on nights lit by such moons as this night, Caruwyn would discreetly study his master; his eyes would explore the sharp angles of his finely wrought face, the skintight black leather that bound his perfect body in pure adoration. He didn't quite know when it had begun, but Caruwyn was growing fonder of his mentor every day.

A warm breeze tinged with the scents of pear blossoms and lilacs wafted through his hair when the sound of hooves approached from the worn path ahead of him. D was coming back. The steed sped through the trees toward him and neighed as D pulled the reins. The black rider remained mounted as the horse pranced before Caruwyn.

D looked down at his companion. "You're supposed to be training."

Caruwyn smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "It's too lovely tonight to be working."

D returned a slight curve of his lips and slid from the horse, clicking his tongue and pushing it toward the pasture. The beast snorted in contentment and turned for the prospect of fresh grass. The dark-clad man cocked his head to study what was in Caruwyn's hands.

The youth held it in the light. "It's not much now as you can see."

"You sculpt?" D inquired with a hint of interest.

"Sometimes," Caruwyn said with a timid smile and cast his eyes back to his work. He was inwardly relieved that his master had come back unharmed but didn't want to show it.

D approached and turned to press his back against the pear tree's thick trunk, watching as his pupil sliced thin slivers of wood away from his carving. The glow of the moon and stars made Caruwyn illuminate like a celestial being. D couldn't help but admire the way the younger dhampire seemed to glow at night, as if he were a fallen star misplaced from the sky. And in a way it was true.

Caruwyn felt the hunter's gaze fixed on him though he could only see his legs from the corner of his eye. The warm rush of blood came to his cheeks unwillingly. He didn't know why he felt so strange in D's presence anymore, but it was beginning to annoy him. Especially when he was working with his sword techniques. When the smoky-eyed man corrected his hands upon the hilt of the blade he felt a peculiar warmth rise within his stomach. And it seemed to feel so much colder when D's hands left his. He rarely received any praise though the youth was learning fast.

Caruwyn held those dark eyes in his mind as he carved. The hunter was indeed very interesting and knowledgeable. But the respect that blossomed from their tense meeting several months ago had not ceased to bloom. Somewhere along the way, that respect had crossed a different border and the albino craved to learn more about D aside from his occupation and lessons. He had had such an intimate relationship with Meier in the City of Night and he was not used to being in the presence of one who seemed to carry no desire for intimacy. They had become friends, Caruwyn assumed, though D never spoke a word of their relationship. The young dhampire was sure that D enjoyed his company as well, but he doubted that his companion felt the same way as he.

'No,' Caruwyn thought, 'I'm just going crazy.' Still, the longing for one word that had nothing to do with swords, monsters, or employments was fierce in his heart. He wanted desperately to learn about D.

"You're quite good," the older dhampire said and broke the silence.

Caruwyn jumped and nearly placed a deep slit in his hand at the sound of D's voice. Somehow he felt guilty of his thoughts when the man that haunted them spoke.

"Th-thank you," Caruwyn replied and stilled his hand.

D crouched down beside him and ran a finger over the smooth curve of the wooden bird's crown. Caruwyn watched its path, hoping that damned blush was not still be at his cheeks.

"Perhaps one day you can teach me. As payback for my lessons," D said quietly.

That was the last thing Caruwyn had anticipated. He turned his face to smile his agreement at D but the sight before him refrained his lips from doing so. He had never been so closely face-to-face with the older dhampire. His large black hat swooped down to conceal one eye but the other gazed at him intently. Caruwyn met D's stare for a long moment, noting the eternally soft skin of his face that cried to be touched, the delicate lips that needn't move for the man to speak. Caruwyn wondered if anyone had been so fortunate as to embrace that wondrous skin with guilty fingers. The youth's stomach seemed to evaporate as he looked at D. But he couldn't tear his gaze away. The twin stones around either dhampire's necks began to glow at their close proximity.

"Isn't it strange how they do that?" Caruwyn whispered.

"It is," D answered. It had happened more than once but always when they were near one another. And the closer they came, the brighter they glowed though they had never touched. The hunter's explanation was that they reacted to one another merely because of the strange substance in which they were carved from was unlike anything on Earth. They behaved like magnets, opposite poles, in the form of light. Nothing more. But D wasn't thinking about the amulets.

The vampire hunter's brows drew together briefly in confusion before he turned his head away and regarded the contently grazing horse in the pasture. He inwardly kicked himself for allowing his gaze to linger on the crimson eyes that held so much adoration for him. That look in Caruwyn's eyes could not be mistaken. He had done all he could to keep the youth from becoming interested in him, from asking certain questions he had no desire to answer. And he had been successful, or so thought. Questions were one thing, but infatuation was another. He swore he could hear the parasite chuckling at him as the blue illumination faded.

His initial mission was simply to find out what it was about Caruwyn that held such terrible mysticism. Though the young man had the rare gift of mind control, he knew there was more. But months had passed and nothing had revealed itself. The hunter occasionally wondered if he was mistaken in that assumption.

Yet D had grown to care for the youth and had even enjoyed giving him lessons in sword fighting. There was concern for his well-being, but he hadn't wanted anything more than respect. He had not been oblivious to Caruwyn's sidelong looks, however. But the younger dhampire was not so careful in masking his eyes this night.

D stood once again and folded his arms against his chest as he stared at the stars. "The air's getting to you, Hunter," the parasite's voice taunted inside his head. D narrowed his eyes.

"Oh yes," Caruwyn said softly, "if you'd like. Though I don't know how well I could teach you."

"Don't concern yourself over it," the dhampire Prince said. A tense silence followed.

"Master?" Caruwyn said uncertainly and braced himself.

"Yes?"

"Why do you hunt?"

D sighed. "There are many evils in the world that have forgotten their place."

"But," the albino continued in a more cautious voice, "aren't we like them?"

"In blood only. It means nothing. Creatures that feed from greed and malice on the innocent are not like us. I thought I told you this."

"I know." Caruwyn's hands trembled slightly as he formed a wing. It wasn't what he wanted to ask, but he couldn't find the courage or grace to persuade his mentor to bring up something about himself.

"Why do you ask then?"

"No reason," the youth answered, feeling foolish.

D looked back down at the pale half-breed once more before stalking away toward the river. "I still want you to practice tonight."

* * *

Like glitter on smoked glass, the stars reflected on the river surface. Young summer breezes blew warm and fragrant over the rich grasses and rippled the water as D descended toward the bank. His hat was swept from his head and discarded on the soft ground where his great mantle soon followed. Piece by piece, the half-breed shed his clothing into a neat pile. Only the blue amulet remained about his neck as he stepped into the cool waters. D ducked his head under and scooped up a handful of sand with which he scrubbed at his skin. It wasn't as good as soap, but it did the job effectively.

"Need to cool down, dhampire?" the parasite asked and laughed.

D replied by shoving a handful of sand in its mouth. The parasite spat it out angrily.

"What? Can't even take a joke anymore? Geez," the thing said and coughed harshly.

"I know what you would say and I'd rather you not," the dhampire said and scrubbed his arm.

In all this time he had not revealed the parasite to Caruwyn. He didn't think the youth would comprehend such a bizarre thing, if empathy served him correct. But perhaps he would soon. Well he would have to eventually. It might even dissuade the albino from his illusions about D and replace some element of fear in him.

"Yeah, I've been wondering why you've kept me hidden away for so long. Can I finally come out and scare him, D?" the companion pleaded.

"You will not reveal yourself until I command it," the vampire hunter replied and gave it a look of warning to which the creature snorted and sneered. "Understood?"

"Yeah whatever. I never get to have any fun," the entity complained.

D dipped below the river's surface, reveling in the cool sensations about his body. His dark hair floated lazily about his face and the weeds spotting the riverbed whispered over his feet. This was one of the few sanctuaries he had found that he had no hesitations in allowing himself to enjoy. His eyes found the wavering image of the full moon and he admired it from the welcomed depths of his liquid captor.

As much as he tried to avoid them, thoughts of his pale fledgling occupied his mind. He knew that Caruwyn admired him to a point that made him uncomfortable to think about. But he could do nothing to dissuade it. Perhaps it was because there was something inside him that found the youth charming. Indeed he was. And D could scarcely keep his thoughts away from those depthless eyes and flawless face, as much as he fought them. It perplexed him. Why should he be even the slightest bit distracted by such an innocent beauty?

"Maybe it's that combination. You don't see it too often do you?" the parasite chimed in.

"I told you not to interfere with my thoughts," D growled.

"My duty is to protect you when I can. When you start thinking this way it's dangerous."

"What do you know?" D scowled.

"I told you I was weary of him. Just because he hasn't showed any ill signs yet doesn't mean I've changed my mind. To be honest, your attachment to this kid makes me nervous." The parasite grunted.

"He's merely my student."

The creature just smirked in a knowing fashion. It knew D's mind, even the parts that the hunter would never reveal through words. And D was becoming fond of the young man, though he would probably never show it. That was fine with the parasite. He didn't want to see his master get hurt, especially by the strange albino with equally strange powers. D had grown fond of others as well, but nothing ever came of such things. The hunter would deny himself the pleasures of love and lust alike for all time. The parasite never really knew why that was, but its guess was on a form of self-punishment. D hated what he was and believed he had no right to live as a human nor a vampire, but a completely separate being, like an unfeeling phantom.

This was probably just another fleeting case of attraction for the dhampire Prince, the parasite thought. Their paths would soon separate and D wouldn't have to think about the kid ever again. That's usually the way it worked.

* * *

D had been gone for a long time. Caruwyn began to get worried, though he knew that he had no reason to. The vampire hunter could take care of himself and would often disappear for long periods of time with no explanation. But tonight, the young half-breed was more curious than anything.

He abandoned the finished sparrow and carving knife into his pocket and stood, brushing the splinters carefully from his garments. He wore black this night, clothes that D had graciously purchased for him to replace the bloodstained ones that he arrived in. Even washing them had not removed those dark blotches completely. Besides, D had said, darker colors served useful as camouflage in the night. Though they didn't mask his fair head, they still suited him.

The silver sword slid into the belt that hugged his slim hips and Caruwyn looked around. Gentle river sounds guided his feet over the thick grass and his ruby eyes drank in the moonlit scenery. He could never grow tired of the beauty that surrounded him.

The low hill capped with trees provided a border for the river's edge and Caruwyn neared its crest. From above he saw the dark pile of D's discarded clothing and it wasn't long before his eyes found their owner. The older dhampire stood in waist-deep water facing away from him.

Caruwyn knew he should turn back as he had no business being there in the first place. But the radiantly pale skin that hugged D's well-toned muscles in the silver moonlight was too beautiful to pull his eyes from. He studied the curve of the older man's back and the normally wavy dark hair that now fell straight against it. It looked even longer when it was wet. The hunter's arms were much more long and graceful than Caruwyn had ever noticed without their black leather sheathings.

D turned slightly to reveal half his face, turned toward the moon with closed eyes as he worked the sand. Caruwyn forgot how to breathe. The mask of stone that lay forever fixed before D's face was all but gone. In its place was that which one's countenance usually takes on when deep in sleep—naked, true. But the older half-breed's sleeping face had never even revealed anything, always protected.

The albino had chanced but one glance at the sleeping dhampire several weeks ago, for D had almost always fallen asleep after him. But even on that rare night there was nothing but concealment and shadows. And Caruwyn's nightmares had continued. Often he would wake up sweating only to find his master staring down at him in concern or nowhere to be found. He wondered if D dreamed and, if so, what he dreamt about. But he would probably never know.

Now the youth was frozen in place by sheer amazement. He should flee, escape that which his eyes intruded upon. But he could not. The force of attraction that bound him to his master deepened, his longing for D's mysteries to be solved seemed to gnaw his brain. How exquisitely beautiful he really was . . .

* * *

"You've got company," the parasite said amusedly.

D whirled around and caught Caruwyn's pale face that seemed to float without a body among the trees. He remained still and waited for the youth to explain himself.

Caruwyn saw D turn to him from the blue. How had he noticed? The albino had to act quickly.

"I'm sorry. I was just coming for a drink. I . . . I didn't know you'd be here," he stammered and turned to escape.

"Wait," the Dhampire Prince called out. "Don't leave."

Both Caruwyn and the parasite looked at D in surprise.

"Master . . . I," the youth began.

"You came for water, so come get it," the hunter interrupted.

Caruwyn blushed to his ears, he was sure of it. But he had no choice. Slowly he descended the hill and stood and timidly at the river's edge. He couldn't help but gaze at D's slender muscular form and the amulet that rested against his chest. His face wore a solemn, expressionless look. And that face had never seemed so wondrous to the youth than now, with his hair pulled away and the large hat that served as a fundamental component of his careful mask cast aside. How he longed for just one touch, just one piece of proof that the stunning man before him was no illusion. When he realized his eyes were drifting toward the Prince's navel he quickly cast them to the ground and furrowed his brow in irritation at himself.

"What are you waiting for?" D asked. He was upset at this disturbance and wanted to make Caruwyn squirm a bit for it. But surprisingly, the desire for revenge fueled by the frustration of being caught off his guard was replaced by some amusement at the blush on his fledgling's white cheeks.

The young albino squatted down and took a handful of water to his mouth, feeling extraordinarily uneasy under D's gaze. He stood quickly.

"I'll go now. Forgive my intrusion," the youth said and turned away.

"Why in such a rush?" the older dhampire said and clenched his left fist tight. Perhaps the air and brilliant stars were getting to him.

Caruwyn stopped in mid-step but said nothing. His heart pounded.

"I thought you were an admirer of scenery. The view is finer here than from that tree of yours," D said and allowed a smirk to tug imperceptibly at his lips. "Don't you think?"

It was too much. Caruwyn's blood rushed to his stomach but he could not turn to face the other. "Yes, much more lovely."

"Do I frighten you?" D didn't know why, but he found his game immensely entertaining at Caruwyn's expense.

The albino's breathing had become labored. If his dignity had allowed him to do so, he would simply run away. But he was held firm by D's torture.

"No," he replied. "Not at all. Only my own thoughts do that."

"And what thoughts are those?"

Would it never end? What was the vampire hunter trying to do to him? Make him insane?

"Master, please. I should go," Caruwyn pleaded.

"And yet nothing stops you," D said and released the spent sand into the water.

At this Caruwyn flushed even more ferociously and his feet carried him back up the hill toward the pasture without another word.

When he was gone, D unclenched his bloodless fist. The parasite groaned in pain.

"What was that for? I wasn't going to say anything," it said in irritation. "Though I damn well should have with that charade you were playing."

"It did no harm," D said and smoothed his hair back.

The entity clicked its tongue. "You're too easy on him. And for all the wrong reasons I might add."

D strode from the water and let the night air dry his skin before dressing himself. His blade was sheathed as he ascended the grassy hill. The moon dipped slowly toward the horizon, signaling that it would be morning soon.

Caruwyn was standing beside the cyborg when he returned, smoothing his hand over the grunting thing's neck. D approached him unabashed and stood watching the youth's caring movements.

"Did you finish your carving?" he asked and his eyes lit up when the young man jumped and backed away nervously from his sudden appearance. "Let me see it."

Caruwyn extracted the small wooden bird from his pocket and handed it to his master with the appropriate amount of fumbling. The latter inspected it closely, the faint trace of a smile marking his approval. He handed it back and scratched the steed behind its ear.

"Now, show me how you've come along with the sword."

The young albino had deterred his gaze from seeking the other, wondering why D acted as if nothing had happened. Perhaps he was making the incident out to be a bigger deal than it really was. But he was certain that D had toyed with him. As if he needed even more frustration as it was.

He tucked the carving away and drew his sword. It glided gracefully through the air as it slashed and Caruwyn danced with it hypnotically. Over the months it had become an extension of his body and it showed in his graceful form. D's lessons had changed him remarkably, matured him. When he wielded the light weapon, he could lose himself, forget everything that bound him to unrelenting conscious thoughts.

The older half-breed stopped him with an upraised hand. "You've done well. Perhaps tomorrow we can find the means for you to put those skills to a test."

And truly Caruwyn could use a source to take his pent-up frustrations out on. Tomorrow wouldn't come soon enough.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	12. Ill Omens

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Ill Omens **

* * *

D shifted slightly under the weight of Caruwyn's head pressing against his shoulder. Warmth flushed the light evening winds and the hunter and steed alike were in no hurry to get anywhere, though they had no particular destination. Caruwyn had tossed and murmured in his nightmare-filled sleep all morning, often waking and staring at the sky with grave eyes as if in a trance. D had learned it best to just let him be, but even as the young one's eyes remained fixed and seemingly alert, he was not awake. The vampire hunter wondered then if he should rouse the sleeper but decided that jarring Caruwyn back into the world from wherever he was would not be the wisest idea.

But as the soft nightfall covered the day the albino grew groggy and finally fell into a peaceful slumber. D was not overly thrilled at having his passenger fall asleep, and against his own shoulder, as they rode. But he didn't have the heart to stir the poor wretch.

They had traveled far in their months of journeying, but the hunter never paid much attention to where, though certain familiar landmarks would always give it away. When all time meant nothing and life promised a never-ending road, one didn't think much about them with significance. It was usually very boring. Only his fighting, the parasite's sarcastic attitude, despite its annoyance, and now Caruwyn's company were all that D had to stave off the monotony of living.

"Can we pick it up a pace?" the voice in his hand piped up as if on cue.

"I thought you appreciated this season," D answered.

"I do when it's not from the grip of a rein! Why are we ambling along like this? It's driving me nuts. Can't we stop or something?"

"No."

The thing sighed. "At least give me some air."

D dropped his arm to his side.

"Ahhh, that's much more like it. So where are we off to anyway? You seem intent on finding something. A fight maybe?"

"Maybe."

"I could go for something lively. That beast last night was too simple. We need a real battle. Something I can really sink my teeth into."

D remained quiet as the creature rambled on. The turn of the seasons never failed to make it antsy. But tonight D didn't mind listening to its incessant babbling.

A huge magpie swooped past and shrieked its annoyance at them from above before gliding off to a different tree to glare at the intruders. Caruwyn fluttered his eyelids, roused at the sound. Realizing that he had fallen asleep against D's shoulder, he was about to jerk himself up and mutter an apology when he noticed a voice. One he had never heard before. Confusion grappled with him but he remained as he was, trying to discern the easygoing speech and where in the world it was coming from.

"Like that time last summer. Or was it two summers ago? Who the hell can keep track?"

The albino turned his eyes toward the source of the rambling and saw nothing but the horse's feet and the slowly passing ground.

"Now that was a fine meal!"

Caruwyn's eyes shifted to D's arm lying slack at his side and saw the little jabbering face inside its palm. His eyes grew wide with horror. The albino shot upright and in his shock scrabbled from the horse, landed hard, though he barely noticed, and stared up in mute confusion at D's turned back.

The Dhampire Prince stopped his mount abruptly and twisted to look back at Caruwyn, instantly recognizing the look of fear in the other's eyes. Another nightmare most likely.

"I . . . I'm not dreaming!" the young man cried out, more for his own sake though he didn't quite believe himself.

D slid from the saddle and approached him but Caruwyn backed away with terror-filled eyes. The older dhampire stopped and looked at him strangely.

"You . . . what . . ." Caruwyn stammered.

D reached down for him and the albino fixed his eyes to the hand that came closer. There was nothing there. But he still did not take it.

"What's wrong with you?" D asked.

"I'm not going crazy. I saw it. There," the youth uttered and pointed at D's hand.

The tall half-breed pulled his hand back and sighed. 'See what your tireless mouth does?' he thought toward the parasite.

"Come back. I'll explain." D said.

* * *

They rode on in silence and the parasite eyed Caruwyn wearily. D had disclosed everything about their truce with one another; how it aided the dhampire in battles and briefly of the history they shared.

'Of course D had forgotten to mention my untimely wisdom', the thing mused. The albino met its glance and smiled nervously. 'Ha,' the parasite thought bitterly, 'he smiles at me! Already a smile. Unbelievable. Even D refuses to do that.'

"So do you have a name?" Caruwyn ventured.

The parasite was surprised beyond speech. It hadn't expected acknowledgement much less words directly aimed at it.

"Don't bother speaking to him. He won't listen," D said to Caruwyn. "He'll only talk."

"I resent that!" the entity shrilled.

The young dhampire stifled a laugh. He had to admit that whole thing was quite odd, but the more he reflected on D's words, the more they made sense to him. And because the creature was a part of his master, he could grow to get used to it. Inside, he was reveling in the things that D had said. Finally, something more to understand the hunter by. It wasn't much, but Caruwyn didn't care. It was progress.

"I'm sorry I reacted that way," the youth said to the creature.

D remained silent, which the parasite took as permission. "Don't worry about it, kid."

Caruwyn spied the flicker of lights in the distance and looked up to see where they were. A city shielded in ruins met his eyes just ahead. The beast trotted forward into its outskirts and the young protégé studied the cracked and moss-riddled frames of old houses long abandoned to nature. Things seemed so much more remarkable back then, before the Great War. People had a taste for art, beauty, and the passion for creation whereas now they lived huddled together in fear under simple roofs capping walls adorned with mounted crucifixes. Such odd creatures, humans. So prone to fear. He wondered what it was that drove them to keep living.

D reined the horse in at the edge of the more modern center of the small city where a group of men came sprinting toward them from the streets as if they had been expecting the hunter. The prince waited patiently.

"Are you the Dhampire Hunter?" one of the mortals called breathlessly.

"I am," D said.

"Thank God. We sent our messengers out for you weeks ago and they haven't come back. Thank God you're here!" The man cast a brief glance at the pale stranger behind the hunter. "There's a terrible monster loose here. Please, will you help us? Name any price you want!"

"And what sort of creature is it?" the dhampire asked.

Another man spoke up. "Damnedest thing. We don't know what it is. We can't seem to find it."

D's eyebrows rose imperceptibly.

"It looks like us. It talks like us. And it can change its shape. It never looks the same! We don't know who to trust anymore!" the first man cried after catching his breath.

"I'll have to know what I'm dealing with before I can set my price."

"Yes anything . . . we just want our friends back. Our children. Please. Stay at the inn at our expense until you can find it. We'll do whatever we can to help. Whatever you ask."

D nudged his heels into the steed's sides and it trotted into the simple maze of the city.

"I'll do what I can."

The albino heard the men sigh in unison at their relief and felt their eyes follow the mechanical horse as it strode into the city. When they were far enough behind, Caruwyn spoke.

"Master, what's going on?"

"I don't know. But this will be good for you. Keep your senses open," D said without a trace of concern.

* * *

The innkeeper regarded them no less anxiously than their greeters. His dull brown eyes became alight with startled recognition that quickly changed to hope.

"Please. You are our guests if you agree to help with this terrible situation. Just call on me and I'll see that you're fit. Whatever you need," the man said with clasped hands at his broad chest.

"We appreciate it," D answered. "But there aren't enough details about this . . . situation . . . Perhaps you can spare something more."

The man nodded his head and that flicker of hope subdued to sadness. "It started about two months ago. At first we thought it was a sweeping illness, you know, the kind that makes its way to nearly everyone. But they never got better, started acting strange. Like their will to live just up and disappeared. They walk around like zombies, no life at all in those eyes. And it wasn't long before we realized it was no sickness." The man's voice quieted several decibels and his eyes swept the empty room in subtle fear. "It's demon's work. I'm sure of it."

D looked skeptical. "What makes you say this?"

"I saw it. Not but a few nights ago. There is a little girl that my poor daughter knew before her accident," the innkeeper paused to cross himself, sweat forming on his brow. "They were close friends and my daughter's death was very hard on her. The little girl's name is Suzette. She lives close and so she comes around this area all the time. It was a slow night as usual and for some reason I just couldn't sleep. So I sat by the window to watch the stars. It was about midnight when I saw her walking alone, and we don't think to warn our kids about it because there's never been any danger before. We're a peaceful people here. But most of us don't go out at night anyway so I was curious.

"And so I just watched her walk when she stopped and looked so badly frightened. I looked to see what it was and . . ." The uneasy man paused again to cross himself, more frantically this time, and wipe the sweat from his forehead. He stared hard at D; as if doing so would convince the dhampire of what he spoke. "I saw my daughter. Right there. Only it wasn't her. She beckoned to Suzette and hugged her, crying with happiness. And then . . .oh it was so terrible!"

"Go on," D urged.

The man began to tremble at the memory but continued. "She . . . that thing . . . took the girl's mouth. It was an odd kiss. Obscene. But Suzette wouldn't struggle. When the thing let her go she fell to the ground in a daze. And the creature wearing my daughter's face shifted . . . turned into a man. Very tall with red hair, from what I could see in the night. There was a horrible smile on his face when he looked up at me . . ."

Caruwyn's brows drew together in concern but D held his arm out to keep him from approaching the innkeeper who stood on the verge of tears.

"What happened then?" the vampire hunter asked.

"I couldn't move or speak. I was so afraid. Those eyes were awful. So full of . . . I don't know. I thought at first it was the work of a vampire. But when he walked away and I came down to see Suzette, I found no sign of assault. No wounds, no bruises, no blood. Nothing. She breathed, yes, she was alive. But she hasn't recovered from that night; doesn't speak. Just like the others."

"How many others are there?"

"Not more than twenty. But the attacks are becoming more frequent. No one has seen the red-haired man except me, though they have seen an illusion wearing the face of someone they know only to find that same person moments later. Always after that someone has fallen. It's coming for me next I know it! It saw me that night . . ." The innkeeper shuddered violently and looked pleadingly from D to Caruwyn. His eyes were large with fear. "Please say you'll help us!"

D stood unmoving, mulling the descriptions over in his mind. He had never heard of a case like this that involved no bloodshed. It was . . . peculiar. If what the man said was true, that is. "I'll have to see this victim."

Caruwyn observed the man's gratitude as it spilled from his eyes. But something was troubling him throughout the story, something familiar. The night he first saw the human race, that night in Southbridge, he had seen a strange spectacle in the ally. A girl had fallen as her mother shrieked that she remained unwounded yet alive and unable to respond. Could it possibly be linked to this case? His heart began to pound with anticipation.

* * *

The night enclosed the small city in velvety softness. Yet in the air lay a strange sense of ill boding for the shaken innkeeper. After ushering his new guests to their rooms and locking the front door to his establishment for the evening, he trudged to his room and prepared to retire. Kneeling at the foot of his bed, the prayers came easily in their usual whispered fashion when the sensation of eyes possessed him. The man unlaced his fingers and whipped his head to look behind, seeing nothing. Silence grew stifling. The candle on his bedside table snuffed out when the low murmuring voice sounded next to his ear.

"Such terrible things come from this mouth. I don't think they would taste good at all. Shall I try them anyway?"

Absolute terror held the innkeeper in place; even his lungs refused to move. The voice grew raspy, provocative and hideous all at once.

"No. For one who has seen too much I imagine a more . . . physical death would better suited. Here, allow me to embellish."

The summer night sounds of restless crickets and fluttering leaves greedily swallowed the brief cries of blood-choking agony and blissful sighs that ensued.

* * *

The following afternoon greeted the dhampire hunters with certain unease. The inn's door remained deadbolted but no one was in sight. D wore a nearly invisible look of concern as he climbed the steps to the innkeeper's rooms. When no one answered his knocks, the hunter found the door unlocked and stepped inside the hot cramped room, stopping immediately at the threshold and staring straight ahead. The scene was like that of a vivid nightmare.

Blood painted the walls and floor a grisly shade of rusty red, splashed in seemingly unnatural quantities and positions over ever the entire room as if it were sprayed with a hose. The remains of the innkeeper lay outstretched on the gore-laden bed; his mouth and eye sockets hollow where once a tongue and eyes had been. A gaping hole stood out darkly in the center of his chest and his hands were relieved of several fingers at mid-joint.

It would have appeared that a wild animal had been let loose in the room if not for the deliberate placement of the innkeeper's body. It lay on its back in the center of the bed, arms folded across its chest with a crucifix beneath, partially obscured in flaps of ripped skin. D turned and pushed Caruwyn away.

"What is it? What's in there?" the youth asked, bewildered by his mentor's action. He was being pushed back down the stairs.

"There's no need for you to see," D answered evenly though inside he was disturbed.

The albino made no protest but fear crept through him as he descended the staircase. D took the lead at their base and unbolted the inn door before stepping out into a garishly bright day.

After several inquiries to a few reluctant people, D and Caruwyn made their way to Suzette's home. The suffering parents complied to let the pair view their unmoving daughter. The girl lay staring at the ceiling from the bed, hands folded across her ribs like that of the innkeeper's corpse.

D stood in the doorway for a moment to look at her, not noticing anything obviously out of place. He approached slowly, working his eyes over her breathing body. Caruwyn followed and stood one step behind the hunter when he stopped. The young dhampire's eyes could find nothing amiss, though he didn't know quite what to look for. He did, however, feel the stirs of pity when his gaze fell to her young stony eyes.

The vampire hunter's hand reached out and grasped the girl's head to turn it toward him. He heard the parents gasp in fear as he did so but pushed it from his thoughts. The child's eyes were forced to his and D examined them. They had once been clear and blue like the sky of a summer day, but were now clouded in strange gray fog like the eyes of the blind. The fact that they had once been cerulean was only apparent in the tiny flecks among those murky clouds, the only truth D could observe within their depths. They could not see him. His hand guided her head back to stare at the ceiling and he straightened.

"What is it?" the child's mother asked desperately.

"She is lost," the Dhampire Prince said simply and turned to leave the room.

Caruwyn followed close behind, listening to the sounds of the woman's crying until they faded with the dim of the house. The hot sun fell upon them but D did not falter in step.

"Master, what did you mean? Is there no way to cure that child?" the young half-breed asked as he nearly tripped over the auburn-haired dog that followed them from the yard of the house. A whimper escaped its throat as it tagged behind the albino a few steps before turning back toward the yard.

"I don't know. She lives, yet she does not. I need to think about this."

The pair entered the inn stable and D readied his horse when the cries of horror sounded. Several people came running to the little building to slip inside, returning deathly pale and vomiting in the grass. One of the men that who had accosted them the evening before caught them in his gaze and stood staring with desperate pleading written plainly on his face before approaching the stable. Caruwyn looked in awe at the man's naked pain as he stood bravely before D, tears streaking his ruddy face and teeth gritted in anger.

"Name your price, dhampire. It's yours."

D looked at the man for a moment and a silent sigh escaped his lips. "Five hundred thousand. And if we find this creature, five hundred thousand more."

The man winced briefly. "Done."

* * *

The late sunset was a splash of gold and red over the horizon, embossing thin clouds in heavenly hue. D sat and Caruwyn paced about the inn's small lobby, waiting for darkness to claim the dying day. The young dhampire fidgeted in agitation.

"Why wouldn't you let me see it?" he finally blurted out.

D looked up at him and Caruwyn halted. They looked at each other for a long moment before the younger half-breed cast his eyes to the floor.

"I told you. It wasn't necessary," D replied.

Caruwyn grumbled and resumed his mindless pacing. He couldn't stand it. Something was very strange around there, to say the least. And the vampire hunter was doing his best to keep him in the dark. What was he thinking? At the very least he could share his thoughts. But D hardly said a word once the money had been delivered to his hands.

Now it was late and they were alone in the inn, the townspeople safely hidden behind locked doors for the night. Caruwyn threw himself into a chair and glared at D. The latter refused to acknowledge that look, which agitated the youth further. Why wouldn't D say something?!

The evening at the river seemed so far removed from him. Things had taken such a bizarre twist and just when he thought that he was progressing with that enigma he called "master". Just a matter of hours ago he was tortured by the sight of the Dhampire Prince's flawless skin and now he was thrust into bloody mayhem. He hadn't seen the innkeeper's body but he knew. He could see it in D's eyes. And it was horrible.

His skull began to throb with stress. Why couldn't they just leave and go back to their quiet solitude? They had no obligation to these humans and their problems. But D probably could never pass up the money. Or was it the prospect of fighting that he couldn't refuse? Caruwyn's ruby eyes bore harder into D's tipped head.

The crisp sound of barking in the silence hours later nearly made the youth jump from his skin. He flew from the chair and pulled the curtain discreetly from the corner of the window. The shaggy auburn-haired dog that had followed him from the girl's house was prancing playfully below a darkened house's window from which a young boy poked his head. The child opened the window wide and laughed down at the dog before crawling out to meet it.

Caruwyn smiled to himself as the young boy chased the dog in circles, laughing when the roles were reversed. Musing over the fondness he was developing for the children of the human race, the albino suddenly longed for his own childhood again. He missed his father terribly.

The young man released the curtain and moved to sit back down when a sharp startled cry pierced the air. Caruwyn rounded back to the window, throwing aside the curtain without hesitation. D was by his side in an instant.

The dog blurred and shifted before their eyes and in its place was a tall man with red hair, holding the young squealing boy captive in his arms. His lips silenced cries of fear as they pressed tightly over the child's. Fingers entwined brutally in the boy's hair and the youth failed to struggle.

Caruwyn reacted first. The door of the inn was flung open and his sword was drawn all at once as he bolted for the figure. He didn't hear D's protests. Silver caught the moonlight as the albino's sword slashed through the air straight for the kneeling man's neck. There was no connection. The young dhampire scanned the area: below him laid the young boy with glazed eyes, immobile, but the stranger was gone. Caruwyn ducked and rolled instinctively, narrowly missing the sharp claws fixed to long fingers that swooped for his skull. The albino's face twisted in fury as he stood and plunged his weapon for the tall man's stomach.

D stood just outside the inn, watching. Caruwyn was doing rather well for himself and he felt no need to interfere. Just yet. His opponent matched the physical description of the late innkeeper fairly well and he had no doubts that this was the one responsible. Yet there was a sickening air of madness issuing from the man, like that of one who revels in things of unholy pain and suffering. There were blessedly few he had encountered over his long years that possessed it. But this one was stronger, unpredictable. D stood tense and ready to jump in at any moment.

"The kid's gone berserk, D. Should he be fighting so soon?" the parasite asked but the hunter remained quiet.

Caruwyn ducked the deadly claws and furrowed his brow at the obscene laughter the man was making.

"How utterly delightful! You fight well!" the auburn-haired man cried as he spun away from his attacker's weapon.

Caruwyn growled and lunged again.

"I shall enjoy you slowly, swordsman." The red-haired man licked his lips at the young half-breed and laughed malignantly before taking the offensive.

The sharp claws slashed a clean tear in Caruwyn's weaponless arm. In the failing light it was difficult to see but his senses moved with his instincts, guiding him. In blinding speed, the albino recovered, swirled with his sword and lunged, nicking the red-haired man in the ribs. Clutching his bleeding side, the man stooped and emitted a groan, which quickly returned to hideous laughter. Caruwyn took the opportunity wisely and impaled his sword straight through the man's chest.

Blood flowed from mouth and wound in torrents before the attention of the man focused directly on the albino's face. Dull silver rays of moonlight pierced the clouds and encased the fighters.

Caruwyn studied the man on his blade. Hair that nearly matched the deep hue of his blood fell straight to brush his well-proportioned chin below a surprisingly handsome face. The madness in his inky black eyes lifted as they stared at the albino. Caruwyn met them and the man smiled with sheer wonder. Neither noticed when D moved toward them and stood close.

"Niveus erus. . . hic est niveus princeps!" the man cried through a blood-filled mouth while smiling broadly at Caruwyn. Tears streaked from his ebony eyes as they gazed in wild amazement at the albino. His hands lifted weakly to touch the pale young man's face in profound care before falling slack. Head and body soon followed, sagging heavily on the youth's sword. The dark eyes that dazzled with rapture dimmed with death.

Caruwyn yanked the blade from the shapeshifter's body, staring wide-eyed and breathing deeply. The reality of the situation was floating somewhere over his head, unreachable. He had killed another. The remorse and horror that came with such an act was present even for this villain. But what in the world caused such a reaction in this one? He didn't know what those last words meant but he knew they were for him. They stirred something within, though he could not tell what. The sight of the blood led him to believe it was the nauseous dizziness playing with his head.

D laid a hand on the youth's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Caruwyn looked to the vampire hunter with eyes large with uncertainty above blood-splattered cheeks. The garish contrast was startling. D eased an arm around the traumatized youth and led him toward the inn.

"What did I do?" the albino whispered.

"You did very well," the vampire hunter assured him.

"He said something to me. Did you hear it, master?"

"Yes."

"What did it mean?" Caruwyn looked up with worry at D's face for any sign of understanding but only saw hesitation.

"I don't know."

The youth bit his lower lip and turned his eyes to the ground. His nerves were standing on end, disturbing thoughts plaguing his mind. Did that man really recognize him or were those words just nonsense from one staring into the face of death? He would not sleep much tonight, of that at least he was certain.

D guided Caruwyn back inside the inn to rest before collecting the remaining funds in the morning. The townspeople would not be happy about the knowledge that their friends and kin could not be cured. But at least the threat was gone. D still had no clues as to what the creature was, but it was apparent that its source for gaining sustenance was from the mouths of its victims. And when it was over, their lives had been stolen. That young girl's eyes told the story. Her spirit was separated from body, fated to wander forever in whatever place it was taken. D knew that there was no hope for her. For what body has any purpose without its soul?

Perhaps he would escape for a while to examine the corpse once he unloaded the distraught youth braced on his arm.

But even more disturbing than the nature of the red-haired man was how he had looked at and what he had spoken to Caruwyn. Strange as it sounded, the message was either an important clue or the ranting of a madman. Somehow it seemed that the latter was not the answer. Regardless, he couldn't say anything to Caruwyn. And he didn't think he would ever mention it.

D had understood the words.

The White Prince has come.

To be continued . . .

* * *

Author's Note: Well my Latin's not very good so I apologize to anyone who knows it and if I used it wrong. But it's close enough at least.


	13. Regret

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Regret**

* * *

The green summer hillsides burdened with the plethora of brilliantly colored flowers was not the welcome change of scenery that D thought it would be. Caruwyn had been unusually still and quiet the entire distance up the valley and the dhampire hunter was growing concerned. As the sun descended the tension seemed to rise as if it could be physically felt in the air around them. When the hazy orb finally sank behind the sharp silhouette of the mountain range to the west the youth released a shudder.

"Something's bothering you," D finally said, knowing how ridiculously obvious the statement was. Yet he had to begin somewhere.

"It's nothing," Caruwyn answered in a whisper laden with sadness.

"There's no need to worry about that creature. What you did was necessary and the humans were grateful, even if they didn't show it. Its death was a triviality. Surely you understood that when you fought. Mourning for such a monster is a waste of time."

"It's not for him that I mourn."

"Who then?"

Caruwyn gazed emptily at the passing fields of flowers, their glory succumbing to the muted tones of nightfall, but he did not answer. Just when he believed the memory of what he had done to his father was resting faded in a corner of his mind the whirling vertigo of revulsion and grief retook him. The sensation of his blade piercing flesh once again had ripped open the floodgates of his pain, releasing doubt and loathing into the tidal wave that issued forth. A painful reminder of what he sought to bury convinced him that his deeds could never be ignored and trying to do so was useless. He deserved all came with the heartache.

"Caruwyn?"

The albino sighed, feeling torn between longing to pour his heart out and the desire to sink further into his torment at the sound of his name spoken so on his master's tongue. A long silence followed.

"It's your father, isn't it?"

The young dhampire's eyes widened. The trap was laid and he had ensnared himself before he realized it. Despite his best intentions, his tears awakened and seeped down his fair cheeks as he gave in.

"Yes."

"I've known," D confided. And indeed it was true. The moments the youth would stare blankly at the stars and the groans that came from unspoken dreams were proof enough. That deeply rooted sorrow from crimson eyes was only thinly veiled. D was skilled in reading his opponents and his ability to view what lay beyond the masks they wore was unmatched. It was in these lessons that he had been able to craft such an impenetrable countenance for himself.

"I wondered," the youth said flatly.

"I'll listen if you should wish to talk about it," the older dhampire hunter offered.

The great black steed trotted somberly to the edge of the river and its master allowed it to rest and steep its dry mouth in the water. Dismounting gracefully, the tall dark hunter stood on the bank and looked over the softly rolling waves.

Caruwyn mimicked the movement but stood on the opposite side of the horse's large body as it were a barrier. After a moment of reflection, he spoke.

"Even now, I wonder if I did have a choice."

D turned his head and gazed thoughtfully at his pupil, waiting for him to continue.

The young half-breed caught the glance for a moment before lowering his head, not wanting to look into those ancient eyes.

"He once asked me if I wanted to learn how to sculpt. I refused. I was happy just watching his hands work." A bitter chuckle seized him. "I guess he taught me after all." Caruwyn's head rose again to gaze up at the navy blue sky. "I didn't want to do it. Why would he ask such a thing of me?" His tears came freely under the cold starlight.

Though it would have been to confusing to anyone else, D knew that the youth was no longer talking about his father's art. A twinge of sympathetic pain for his young fledgling wrenched his heart but he didn't know how to react.

"It was not murder," was all the hunter could say.

"It was no different! His blood still marks my hands," Caruwyn cried out suddenly, staring at his pale palms. "Such a thing is unforgivable!"

The Dhampire Prince turned his body to fully face his companion over the horse's bent neck. "That's a cruel thing to say. He would not have you believe it." A comforting attempt, but the youth's sorrow was not tempered.

"I've tried to forget, tried to push the memory of it away. How could I think to do something like that? I had no right to kill that one which you call a monster, for I'm no different." A wracked sob interrupted any further attempt to speak and Caruwyn buried his face in his hands.

Reluctantly, D slid a hand over the steed's flank as he moved to join the other half-breed. His training would mean nothing if the youth remained in an unstable state like this. A long-nailed hand found the trembling albino's shoulder.

Without a hint of warning, Caruwyn turned and thrust himself against his mentor's chest.

D's body grew rigid in shock at the unexpected contact. Discomfort crept through him at the closeness of the youth's body, yearning for a comfort he was not the one to give. But he couldn't turn away the other; doing so would probably drive the young half-breed to the edge. A risk he was not willing to take. He had just barely tapped into the mystery and raw potential of his student and throwing it all away for his stubbornness was not a wise idea. He'd give this much at least, as hard at it was. Slowly his arms circled around Caruwyn in a loose, uncertain embrace.

"If it weren't for you . . . I don't know . . ." the youth stammered.

"Don't," the hunter said.

The indigo stones adorning their necks glowed softly, casting their pale faces in warm blue light.

"Master . . ." Caruwyn whispered and trailed off, reveling in the sanctuary of the strong arms that held him for he knew they wouldn't remain much longer. His desperation, his pain, his loss and uncertainty were too much to bear. With a fluid movement unhindered by hesitation, Caruwyn's arms reached for D's neck and he pulled himself to meet his mentor's lips.

What shock that might have put the hunter off was suddenly magnified to paralyzing. He stood in complete surprise, unable to pull away or speak as the youth's mouth pressed insistently over his own. The arms holding him captive tightened. He could not react no matter how much his mind screamed at him to do so. 'Push him away; tell him that he is misguided, that his feelings are placed in the wrong one.' Yes, he should, he had to. But nothing would make his muscles regain any feeling as the kiss lingered. Then Caruwyn finally did what he could not.

The youth pulled away slowly, suddenly realizing what he had done. His arms fell and he staggered away, not wanting to see D's reaction.

"Forgive me. I'm not in my right mind," the albino lied. His master's impenetrable coldness would not grant him the pride and strength to admit what he really felt, what he had been feeling for a long time. The stones' light dissipated to darkness.

"Caruwyn. . ." D said quietly. "You mustn't do that ever again." The hunter stood still, the words lashing wounds in his own chest. He cared for his student more than he wanted to admit, but why would this command strike in his heart such bitterness against himself?

The youth was dumbfounded. His heart wrenched in pure agony at the sound of those words from the one he cared about most right after his father. The moisture in his mouth dried up and his tongue grew thick; blood pounded deafeningly in his ears.

"We'll rest here for a while," the vampire hunter said simply, hoping the subject would disappear. The tension was eating him alive.

* * *

The youth sat in agitation against the rough trunk of an old tree, watching the moon's steady journey over the sky. Spite had replaced the sorrow and pain of D's rejection, and though that kind of reaction in him would normally be disturbing, he could not find it within himself to care. The memories of the evening's pains crumbled and he was left with unwavering anger.

The hunter had stalked off on one of his lonely walks some time ago and the youth was left alone to think. 'How could he be so cold? Did he ever even once give a damn about me?' Caruwyn thought disdainfully. 'Everything. I did everything he asked of me and why? To realize that I'm not fit to be a hunter. That I'm not fit to share anything more than these lessons that have just gone to waste? What the hell have I been doing all this for? How could I let myself fall uselessly in love with him?'

From the midst of his anger came a fleeting lance of regret and sadness for what he was about to do. Yet his fury ate it away quickly and he stood, checking the security of his blade and his swordbelt. His teacher was nowhere to be seen as he set out, away from the fresh scent of the river mist and the soft sounds of the grazing horse. He knew couldn't bear to be around the vampire hunter after this night. His own blundering had seen to that.

As Caruwyn retreated from the clearing the memory of Manx's offer echoed in his mind.

* * *

The vampire hunter walked slowly through the trees, his mind reeling. He hadn't wanted to say such a thing to his distraught pupil, but it simply had to be done. What he couldn't understand was the pain that came from it, regret. He could still feel the phantom essence of the young man's lips tingling on his and though he fought to ignore it, he realized that he was failing.

What would he do now? He had to go back soon, but could he pretend that it had never happened was the question. It would have to be so. Perhaps if he talked to Caruwyn and tried to make the youth understand that the devotion for him was out of place there would be resolve. But how he could do so without convincing himself first was another problem. Was it possible that he had desired Caruwyn's affection beneath all the logic and self-hatred that he lived by? It had been so long.

'No,' D mused, 'that's not the answer. I can't ever have such things. It's unfitting.' The dhampire wandered aimlessly, despising the confusion in his head. It wasn't like him to be tormented over such minor things, things that should be dealt with quickly and firmly. As much as he tried to find the will to rule with an iron fist, he knew that finding the right solution was not going to be easy.

The hunter's dark eyes glared up at the mocking moon through the dense branches canopying his path when a sudden slicing pain shot through his head. D fell to his knees and clutched his skull, groaning in effort to ward away the sudden explosion of agony. His breath became labored and his fangs eased out in defense of unseen dangers. From the deafening ringing that consumed his ears he heard the parasite's muffled voice though he was powerless to speak. Fuzzy blackness pricked the corner of his vision and he slammed his eyes shut. D fought to push it away, but it was futile. The same sensation that came over him years ago, that of his last nightmare, was returning to haunt him. The vampire hunter's efforts receded to stillness and he slumped heavily to the forest floor.

* * *

All around him was darkness. It was freezing cold in that strange windless place and his body shivered uncontrollably. Squinting into the darkness revealed nothing as the hunter stood his ground, trying to gain focus of where he was. The sound of skittering vermin teased his fear and he felt the sharp-clawed creatures pass swiftly over his feet, their needle-like paws piercing his thick leather boots. He tried to kick them away, but the more bodies he felt connect with his lashes, the more they seemed to grow in number. D tried to move but the pestilent creatures became too thick to even wade through as they seethed about his legs. He stood still, allowing the tiny claws to rip into his skin. Fear blossomed in his mind as he waited for the unknown. Perhaps nothing would happen. As the bristling things climbed higher and denser up his legs a voice rumbled out.

"Abscedo!"

The vermin scurried away in a panic, leaving D staggering and bewildered with the pain of a thousand tiny incisions.

Soft blue began to glow in the distance, beckoning him. The hunter moved slowly, drawn to the light though he didn't know why. It loomed before him and grew oddly brighter, yet he still could not make out any of his surroundings. The light was strange, it illuminated, yet it was dark. The misplaced familiarity of it taunted his mind wickedly.

Finally a figure became discernable in the eerie darkness of the light. A man sat on a giant throne crafted from discolored bones and posted with skulls. The thing was hideous, stretching toward a nonexistent ceiling in that dark place. Its peak was broken from the corner and great cracks marked the ancient quality of the morbid structure. D stopped before it, staring in awe before the voice of the throne's occupant spoke. The voice matched that which commanded the vicious creatures away.

"I would welcome you more properly, Hunter, for it's been a long time. However, you really should never have come here."

The voice was strange, unearthly and horribly seductive. D was helpless to look away though his fear was great. The blue glow flashed and faded to dim as the man on the throne slowly lifted his lowered head.

D's eyes were fixed to the scene before him that played out torturously slow. The man's young face lifted to full sight yet his eyes remained closed.

"Your contradictions make us sick. Such a mystery as to why no one has seen to this sooner. Yet it pains me even still to have to be the one to do this, dhampire . . . But perhaps, you will be granted a choice. Perhaps your treachery can be redeemed. What say you? Will you take my hand?" The mysterious man's voice grew thicker and slower with each word as if it issued from a dying record. His eyes cracked and pale lids lifted to look upon the hunter as his long arm reached for D.

D was horrified. The eyes that reprimanded him were achingly blue; a dark light spilled from them to match the tone of the gem about the man's neck. A cruel, amused smile pulled the man's lips to reveal a set of sharp fangs and laughter echoed through the dead air before the crushing pain claimed the hunter's entire body.

* * *

The dhampire was jolted back into the quiet forest. The moon had lingered in the same position when he had last looked upon it. But it felt as though he had just spent a mortal lifetime in that hell.

"I don't like this, D. Something bad's about to happen I know it," the parasite said worriedly.

D rubbed his temples, trying to fully regain his senses. That man's face . . . it looked so familiar yet it seemed to him that it was one he had never seen before. But those eyes . . . those hideous blue eyes matched the set that claimed his mother's normally dark orbs in his last vivid nightmare so long ago. The tree spirit's warning came back to him. "Be prepared for his coming . . ." it had said. The auburn-haired man's proclamation . . . Caruwyn's unusual powers . . . it all had to fit together somehow.

Something unseen seemed to click in D's mind as he stood, ignoring the parasite's questions. He walked steadily back toward where he had left the youth, pushing aside the dull pain that lingered in his head. The images swirled in his memory, screaming at him to put the pieces in place. The more he thought about it, the more he felt the stab of dread wedge deeper. And then he found a shred of sense. How could he be such a fool?

It wasn't long before he was running.

Other than the contently grazing horse, the clearing was empty. D looked around as he strode toward the beast but Caruwyn was gone. The hunter jumped into the steed's saddle, surprising the poor beast, and kicked his heels hard into its sides. With a shrill cry it reared and bolted, carrying its master in a direction unknown as the winds swept D's mantle high into the air.

The night was ripe for regret as D drove his mount on blindly, praying for the sake of all things sacred that he would find Caruwyn before someone else did.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	14. Awakening

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Awakening**

* * *

Though the sunset cast the land in wondrous color, the village itself appeared like a deep dark shadow within the shallow valley. Caruwyn strode stealthily toward it, thankful for the black garments that he wore. Once night fell upon the Earth he would have to remain unseen, for he doubted the people of Southbridge had forgotten him.

Tall grasses swiped his shins as he walked, the gate to the poor village growing nearer. Throughout his journey back to this place, Caruwyn was tempted several times to turn back and find D. But his pride was wounded and seeing the dark man's face would probably just bring him anguish. No, he had to remain firm in his resolution. D had said that he learned his lessons quickly so there were technically no more reasons to stay, or so Caruwyn convinced himself. Inside that wound was bleeding yet, but his conviction and stubborn will masked it well. D was better off without him.

The crimson sun slipped behind the hills as he stepped up to the gate. A few stray, newly shorn sheep bleated weakly at him before lumbering in search of new grass to graze on. Caruwyn studied the scenery, noting only a few people milling through the narrow streets ahead. Bending down, the albino grasped the bottom of his long coat. With a few quick tears, he pulled a large strip of the dark material away and began to wind it about the lower portion of his face. When only his eyes remained visible, he tugged a strand of white hair out and placed his hood up over his head to complete the guise. No sense in taking chances.

Cautiously, he strolled up the path, taking up a limp as he went. From a distance the onlookers would see a well-traveled man of age. Caruwyn, careful to keep his eyes averted, nodded slightly to a man and woman who had paused their conversation to gaze at him. Satisfied that the stranger was of no threat, they resumed their business. The albino smiled to himself beneath his windings and limped toward Smipole's inn. There was no one outside the inn when he stopped, though he chanced a look in all directions to make sure. With a great breath he pulled the old wooden doors apart and stepped inside.

To his relief, Smipole was not there to greet him this time. Standing in the doorway, Caruwyn studied the room, its few lazy occupants barely taking notice of him. Manx was not among them. The albino edged slowly toward the front counter and tapped the silver bell there. A young girl of about fifteen emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on her apron. A smile lit up her face.

"I'd like a room please," Caruwyn muttered and dropped ten copper pieces onto the counter.

The girl's face crunched in confusion and she tilted her head to look at him, surprised at the voice that was younger than she had expected. But the dhampire kept his head lowered.

"Yessir. This way." She stepped from behind the counter and led him toward a small staircase. Caruwyn followed, stealing glimpses left and right as they went.

The girl unlocked the room and pushed the door open for him, saying, "If you be needin' anything, you just ask, k?"

"Thank you," the half-breed replied and strode toward the window, pretending to be searching for something below. As the girl turned to leave, he chanced a question. "Have you seen a tall dark man wearing a black cloak around here recently?"

"Nosir. No one like that. 'Cept you, beggin yer pardon."

"Are you the daughter of the man who owns this place?"

"I am. But my father's not with us no more. He was killed last month." The girl clutched her apron tightly and stared at the floor. Though Caruwyn could not see her, he sensed her eagerness to get away from the subject, if not from him.

"I'm truly sorry to hear that. Thank you again," the half-breed said and granted her freedom. She took it quickly, clicking the door closed softly behind.

The albino stood for a few moments and gazed out the small window. The village looked deserted below, its inhabitants locked indoors with the end of daylight. Caruwyn turned from the window and began to unwind the black wrappings from his face, noticing the musty air of the room. When he was finished, the dhampire lifted the window and breathed the cool summer air deeply, wondering when the last time anyone rented this room was. The windowsill had a layer of white dust that spoke of neglect. Perhaps business had fallen since Smipole's death. The town did seem much more desolate. Caruwyn wondered if what had befallen that town where he and D came upon the shape shifter had also plagued this village. Such a notion was frightening.

The youth dropped the sash to the floor and crouched at the fireplace before striking flint to birth a flame. The dark room seemed to greet the prospects of a fire and Caruwyn remained crouched before it, watching the flames slowly eat the dry wood as they grew. Unfastening his long coat, he pulled his sword from its sheath before studying it in the orange light. Though he had cleaned the blood away the moment he had the chance, it seemed to be stained deeply in the rotten crimson color, mocking him.

Disgusted and angry, Caruwyn heaved the blade aside. It clattered against the wall and spun noisily on the floor though he paid the disturbance little mind. He was about to sink into the heat and hypnotizing dance of the flames when a voice from the corner behind him spoke softly.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come."

The albino spun on the balls of his feet, throwing his hands out before him to brace against toppling over in surprise. The corner from which the voice issued was dark though he could sense a presence there. Had the stranger been there the entire time? Caruwyn felt foolish for letting his guard down.

"Who is it?" the half-breed called to the shadows.

A movement in the darkness gave way to a foot as the man stepped forward. When the firelight finally revealed his face, Caruwyn gasped. A pleased smile lifted Manx's lips and bared a pair of sharpened canines.

"Caruwyn. I'm honored to see you again." The tall dark man bowed theatrically, his smile never weakening.

The dhampire stood and bowed his head in return. "I've come to pay off my debt." The same uneasy feeling he had when first meeting the strange man had returned, making the albino's defenses ready.

Manx's eyebrows rose with interest as he stepped forward. "You've learned a great deal since we last me, I dare say. You must have found a great teacher." He stopped close and gazed deep into the albino's ruby eyes. "I admit that I'm a bit envious of the man."

Though the urge to step back several paces grasped him, Caruwyn remained firmly where he was. "Indeed."

Manx reached out boldly and took a strand of the youth's white hair in his fingers, toying with it as he leaned in even closer. "Not great enough to keep you at his side?" he asked curiously. The man's long fingers dropped the hair and took the half-breed's face in its place, pulling it in for a deep kiss from his smiling lips.

Caruwyn's eyes grew large as he started. But Manx's hand held him firmly as cool lips pressed with bruising force over his mouth. He tried to struggle but found that moving was all but impossible. The kiss deepened and he was helpless to resist as the dark man's icy tongue probed his own. Caruwyn's eyes slipped shut, though it was more from the burning cold of the man's mouth than the pleasure of it. Crimson eyes began to swell with tears. As if taking this as a signal, Manx released him.

"Pity you could not have learned what he would never resist," the dark man whispered and caught a tear with his thumb.

Rage at those words swelled like hot venom in the dhampire's gut and he narrowed his eyes in defiance. The fire flickered low, threatening to die though it had just peaked to roaring. Manx's eyes lit up.

"Amazing. You have so much potential within you."

Caruwyn tried to growl a reply but found his voice would not obey him. This inflamed him further and his fangs began to grow steadily as he stood helpless in Manx's cold hands.

"Yes. That's much better." The dark man smiled wickedly and cast his eyes to the indigo jewel at the albino's breast. Delicate fingers caught and toyed with it as it glimmered in the light of the fire. "And now to honor our agreement."

Caruwyn jerked in effort to break free but found himself held fast by the man's unearthly, yet painlessly, strong grip.

Manx's grin grew feral. "Ah, you resist now, but soon you will thank me."

The stone fell back against the youth's chest as Manx pressed his mouth over Caruwyn's once again, probing mercilessly. Choking, the albino staggered heavily and attempted to push the man away with every shred of his strength, but his upraised arms began to grow tingly, refusing to obey him. Stars danced in his vision and the room seemed to lurch beneath his feet before spinning in nauseating ellipses. His eyelids sagged with sudden fatigue as the dark man's mouth continued to pull the energy from him. Black haze flocked the brilliance of the stars until the room seemed to be veiled in thick darkness and the youth longed for release. Yet when Manx pulled away, he scarcely noticed.

The tall dark man gazed down into glassy ruby eyes with an air of contentment before bending to pull the weight of Caruwyn's body fully into his arms.

"I've not hurt you, my lord. It's only temporary, but it was necessary. When you recover, you will discover strength like you have never known." Manx whispered sultrily in the barely conscious youth's ear. "And I will be there to serve you until the end. Every way I can."

The albino's still body was laid out on the bed before Manx bowed and swept his great dark cloak theatrically about himself. He prodded toward the fire, its light reflecting in his eyes like unholy emblems. His long arms guided smooth-nailed fingers in graceful arcs and swirls through the air, red trails of light blazoning. With one final silent sweep he clasped his hands together and a great hot wind blasted down the chimney's throat, tossing his long black hair high into the air. A few words of unworldly tongue were muttered from his unsmiling lips as his eyes flew open and stared defiantly into the furious flames. Hot air raged in cyclones through the room, knocking shelves and framed pictures to the floor in a clatter of splintered wood and crushed glass. His eyes grew larger as the objects flew madly. Even when a stray shard of glass swept past his fair cheekbone and left a trail of vivid red, Manx did not blink.

* * *

Aching thirst greeted Caruwyn's uneasy awakening. His fingers found his forehead and rubbed gingerly at his temples. It felt as though he had just slept for a hundred years. A dark shape caught his attention at the edge of the bed.

"Good evening," the man said politely.

Caruwyn shot upright and immediately regretted it. Pain thundered like a herd of wild cattle through his skull and the sound of its rushing tides was enough to convince him that his ears would bleed.

"Please, Caruwyn, it's best you ease into it."

The albino obeyed and slowly opened his eyes to focus. Manx sat with his customary, charming smile fit snugly on his lips, watching. Caruwyn stared at him vexingly.

"What have you done to me?" the youth asked, anger steadily rising.

"I've touched nothing more than what was waiting to be released. You might say I just sped it up a little," Manx said simply and rose.

"What are you talking about? Where's my sword?" Caruwyn sat at the edge of the bed and wavered in dizziness. A gleam of silver at his side told him that the object still lay where he had flung it earlier.

The albino reached and snatched the blade from the floor. As soon as his fingers made contact with the smooth steel, visions of blood and agony flooded his mind and he fell hard to his knees. He cried out but held the object firmly as if it were welded to his skin.

"You value so that blade which severed the head of your own father. Such a beautiful thing," Manx said almost nostalgically. "Meier. I had known him well."

The words hit like a stinging slap in the face. The visions faded and Caruwyn looked up in muted shock and disbelief.

"You knew . . . my father?" he asked dumbly.

Manx grinned. "A long time ago."

"But," the youth said, shaking his head, "how? When?"

Manx knelt down to meet the curious ruby eyes levelly. "The damned are drawn to the damned." His fingers brushed Caruwyn's chin affectionately. "You look so much like him . . . but more beautiful."

Crimson eyes were veiled in fear and curiosity alike. The dark man's smile broadened.

"It was he who made me what I am." Manx stood abruptly and wandered to the window to stare out into the twilight.

Caruwyn's grip on the hilt was painful. He had not the courage to take his eyes off the floor as Manx spoke. The fire crackled loudly.

"I was enamored with him from the very beginning. Refined, strong-willed, and as desperately lonely as any who are cursed to wander this damnable place for countless years. Our interest in one another was anything but common, given the circumstances, yet certainly not something to be taken lightly," Manx said and paused to rest his weight against his palms on the windowsill. "I am a creature of the night, as I have always been, and yet I am more. Just as you are more than a mere dhampire."

Manx turned away from the window with a start. "I was not the sole recipient of blood foreign to pure veins."

Caruwyn looked up, confused. "What are you saying?"

The dark man seemed to stand even taller, ominous in the suddenly cramped room. "Meier carried with him the blood of demons. My blood, just as his was delivered unto me. You, Caruwyn, are the first to be born with the blood of vampires, humans, and that of demons. You are special. Haven't you ever felt it when you coaxed that sleeping power of yours to the surface, if only for an instant?"

The albino shook his head in denial. "This cannot be true. He would have told me."

Manx gripped the youth's shoulder and bent to face him closely. "He did not want to believe it. He was ashamed of it, as if it soiled his already tainted blood. And then he found your mother, and in her purity believed that he could somehow redeem himself, purge himself of his own sins."

"You lie."

"It was more than her passing that drove him to ask you to deliver him to the clutches of death. He knew what you were. He feared you and hated himself for siring such a creature."

"You're lying!" Caruwyn cried furiously.

"But he was too frightened to see the magnificence in you."

"STOP THIS!"

"Why must you deny it? You have an unfathomable power bestowed in your favor. It cannot be left to fade," the demon paused to touch Caruwyn's face.

The youth flinched and slapped it away with disgust.

"By my life I will see you in your rightful place in this universe. Together, we can reopen the path to the stars and perhaps more."

"You mock me," Caruwyn growled.

"I do no such thing."

"I have not the power of which you speak. I can't do such things."

"Oh, believe me, you can. We just need the right tools," Manx said and replaced his feral grin.

"What do you mean?" the youth said dangerously, yet unable to completely conceal his confusion.

The demon's fingers found the blue stone about the youth's neck once more. "Its mate. Perhaps you know where to acquire it."

The albino was mortified at the realization. "No. I refuse. I absolutely will not—"

"Caruwyn," Manx interrupted, his friendly tone turned abruptly to commanding, "the decision has already been made. You have no choice."

With unavoidable speed and strength, Manx wrapped his caressing fingers hard over the dhampire's forehead, eyes glinting madly. Caruwyn screamed as red light filled his vision, searing his mind like hellfire. His childhood, his father's sad face, D's caring voice and the remembrance of that brave kiss flashed through his memory as if he were on the verge of death before all began to fade. He tried desperately to hold on to them, but it was no avail as blackness overcame him. He could no longer hear himself cry out, but felt a sickening sensation crawl to life within his gut. The jewel at his breast glowed brightly.

"Forgive me, my lord. But the end of the long oppression imposed on all creatures dark is far too important to be put off by your charmingly stubborn will. To you I sacrifice my own powers and fully awaken your blood. Awaken," Manx said lowly.

When Caruwyn's screaming stopped, the demon withdrew his hand and held his breath. The air grew thick with silence. The youth's head slumped down against his chest and his body grew still. For a long moment nothing happened, even the chirping of the crickets gave way to the terrible quiet.

When the albino finally stirred, Manx still held his breath; Caruwyn raised his head and slowly lifted his eyelids, a small smile taking his lips. The eyes that once burned red as fire-lit rubies now regarded him a painful shade of blue.

"My Prince," Manx breathed in rapture mixed with fatigue and lowered his head submissively.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	15. Captors and Captives

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Captors and Captives**

* * *

The branches of the trees seemed to multiply impossibly in the dense woods as D urged his reluctant mount onward. Their sharp ends became like bony fingers attempting to halt the hunter from progressing, pulling insistently against his mantle and threatening the smoothness of his face. The horse neighed in hesitation and halted to prance in the midst of the overwhelming vegetation.

"Come on, D. Turn us around already. We're never getting through this mess and it's been over a week since we started this pointless search," the parasite said irritably.

But the vampire hunter only withdrew his immense sword and began to hack the branches away. He was furious at himself for failing to foresee Caruwyn's departure. Of course the child would have been crushed by his refusal. But what was he supposed to have done at the time? The glistening pain in those young ruby eyes was a stab in the gut as he invoked their memory. D cursed himself. But he wasn't sure if it was his regret for hurting the child or the creeping feeling that he had just let his doom in by the front door that caused him the most distress.

"Why are you so worked up? If the kid goes, he goes. Good riddance." The entity watched D's arm violently lash the hindrances, a great sigh escaping its mouth. It didn't truly believe its own words, for it had also grown somewhat attached to the charming young dhampire. Though it once might have felt strongly against the bond that its master and the youth had formed, it now wondered if such a thing was a necessary change for the vampire hunter. D had lived for countless centuries in a state that would drive most humans to off themselves. And it knew that D would never listen to such advice, for it could feel the turmoil within its master's mind. It was like witnessing a corpse coming back to life and the parasite couldn't help but feel some sympathy for its lonely host.

D continued his labors but the branches only seemed to grow thicker beyond each inch that he cleared. The horse grew restless and pranced more madly as it tossed its head, hoping that its owner would hurry and turn around. But the hunter's arm kept swinging.

"And what if this is the wrong way?" the parasite ventured. "I mean, how are we supposed to find him when he could have gone damn near anywhere?"

For an odd moment the air bore an icy breeze and the black sky deepened further into shadow. The dhampire stopped his task momentarily to study the treetops, suddenly sensing eyes upon him. His lids squinted against the dull starlight as he searched for the presence. From what he could see, only the frail leaves and branches that stretched toward the sky carried any life or movement as they swayed erratically in the cold wind. His sword hand tensed.

With some unseen signal, the silent birds sleeping in the heavy boughs stirred and voiced their surprise as they bolted from their nest in a single dark cloud of fluttering wings. D's eyes followed their path before sliding into the opposite direction. Something moved behind him.

A great dark bird with massive wings suddenly soared up from the tree he had split apart and hovered high in the air. It appeared like a gigantic hawk out for its evening hunt at first, but no chase was given to the smaller beasts that could not possibly out fly it. Instead it rounded a great circle before descending lower and straightening. From its new position, D could see that it was no ordinary bird. The creature cackled.

"So sorry, dhampi-i-re. But my forest does not want your kind within, I fe-e-e-el. I'm afraid you'll have to take your little friend's appe-e-e-eal." Its voice was high-pitched and musical; the way a bird's would sound and behave if one could speak.

The creature's great full wings folded and it plummeted down as if it were intent on crashing into the ground. But they unfurled with a great rush of air as the feet belonging to them found hold on a thick branch just in front of the hunter. It hunched forward like a predator.

D stared at the thing levelly, waiting for it to speak again. He could see it very faintly in the weak light, but its outline betrayed its wiry human-like form beneath amber-glowing eyes. Its skin was bare but the feathers from its wings spread down its sides before disappearing into a sexless groin. The thing crouched down and clutched its perch, revealing a very sharp set of talons on either hand. D poised his sword.

"Would you take the first strike against me-e-e-e? As you've done to my defenseless tree-e-e-e? Truly your honor prevents such hypocrisy-y-y-y. Or is that the way of Hunter De-e-e-e?"

The dhampire started at the sound of his name. The creature's talons scraped slowly as they flexed, preparing for flight. The shredding sound was like glass against stone.

"How do you know me?" D asked in a low voice.

The bird creature answered with a piercing series of screeches from its narrow throat as it thrust its head back. D remained perfectly still, cautious.

"You may not know me-e-e-e, but you've met my family, Hunter De-e-e-e. And they will not-no not be happy if it is you they do se-e-e-e. And so I've come-yes I've come, to end your journe-e-e-ey."

The talons clenched and left deep jagged burrows in their wake as the bird creature lifted itself with a great flap of its musty wings. It rose slowly, laughing in obscene musicality.

"I have no wish to harm you, so tell me who it was that sent you," D said.

It twirled playfully with its arms outspread. "Only the Barbarois, my fair boy. And you cannot, no you cannot damper our joy when we've only just received our toy," it warbled. Amber eyes sparkled with glee as it dived low.

D lunged down low to the side just in time to miss its first deadly attack. It was too late to counter with his own blow; he would have to wait for the thing to swoop again. The trees were too dense around him to jump. They even seemed to have closed in from the path he had entered from. He turned to face the hovering mongrel, strengthening his guard.

"What are you talking about?" the hunter called.

"Oh friends, refuse his amends for he so-yes he so wickedly pretends. Assist me with the means to his ends!"

The trees snapped their vines to life from all directions at once before D could realize what was happening. They twisted harshly about his wrists like tightly woven ropes and caused his sword to fall to the ground. D pulled with all his strength against them but could hardly budge his outstretched arms. Two more pairs of vines crashed down from either side and wrapped cruelly around the trapped horse's legs. The creature screamed its protest as D was lifted away from its back. The vines suspended him, wrapping tighter with every struggle. He tried to summon the parasite's assistance but it was conveniently faced away from the spell.

The bird creature dove down and captured the fallen blade, swinging it about as it screeched its laughter and leered at the captured dhampire.

"Time to sleep, fair prince. Later, perhaps, that answer will evince."

The mongrel whistled with childlike mirth and toyed with the weapon as the trees found their hold around the hunter's neck and squeezed with bruising force. Only when the air was stolen from his lungs and the light faded from his eyes did the vines ease their grip.

* * *

D awoke to the steady patter of dripping followed by the resounding evidence of the place's emptiness. His eyes swam with dizziness as he opened them, immediately inducing pain in his head. He quickly brought his hands to his throat to rip away the force that strangled him, but found that it was no longer holding him. The skin there burned with proof that it had indeed occurred. Realizing that he was lying on his side, D pushed himself up and swaggered. He stumbled forward a few steps and caught cold steel. Bars.

Before he allowed himself the knowledge of his surroundings, D groped his body for his sword. His clothes and pendant remained intact, but his weapon and cape were gone. The freezing bars were taken into his hands again as he peered though them.

It appeared like a dungeon beyond, and certainly underground from the dank musty smell that clung heavily to the air. A battered sconce holding a horn-shaped torch burned dimly on the opposite wall beside a rusty iron-slabbed door. The walls and floor were of slate-colored stone, uneven, as though they were laid in haste or had been in existence for centuries. A small tarnished tray with a thin fluted chalice sat just outside the boundary of his cell, reflecting the golden light of the flame.

D crouched to inspect it, though quite tempted to swallow the contents immediately to ease his harsh thirst. It only paused for a second beneath his nose before the vessel was flung against the far wall, splattering its contents as it crashed to the ground. D watched in disgust as the crimson liquid trickled between the cracks and seeped into a dusty pool on the floor. Though he had discarded it as quickly as he could, the scent still lingered in his memory, teasing his thirst further. D scowled. The blood had even been spiced.

The dhampire rounded to study his prison. Against the back wall rested a simple cot over which lay his cloak. He took it up briskly and fastened it back in place before sitting with resignation on the measly structure. His hands ran over his throat again. The wounds were not healing as quickly as they should have been and he felt decidedly weak. He would need sustenance soon. His eyes roved the wall smattered with blood.

The hunter played the fleeting scene in the forest over in his head to distract himself. That bizarre creature said the Barbarois had sent it. But why? He had never held an alliance with the dark beings, but neither had they been enemies. And how had it found him? Surely there could not have been a hunt for his capture in the more recent past. The whole situation was disorienting.

"Did you see anything else? Anything strange?" D asked the parasite quietly. But the thing did not reply and he could barely sense its presence.

The hunter turned his left hand around and furrowed his brow when he learned that the creature was deep in slumber. Yet it was a forced sleep; the parasite had only a shred of energy keeping it alive at all. D attempted to rouse it, but it was no avail; he too was weak and feeling anything but himself. The idea of deep sleep sounded marvelous at the moment, though he was not prepared to let his guard down in this strange, unfriendly place. He would have to figure out a solution to his dilemma on his own.

Suddenly footsteps echoed beyond the door. The dhampire stood and folded his arms over his chest, placing his indifferent mask carefully over his features as he awaited his jailor. The sound of leaden keys thumped against the door and the lock clicked with an echo before the door creaked open excruciatingly slow. A black-shod foot entered first, followed by a tall body swathed in a dark cloak with a drawn hood. D stared at the head of the figure but he could not see its face beneath the layers of material. The door clicked shut behind the stranger. Though its eyes were hidden, D felt their scrutiny upon him. But he stood firmly and waited.

After a moment the intruder moved, revealing a set of long pale arms with equally graceful fingers tipped with sharp nails that rose to lift the hood away. The dhampire watched as it fell back and exposed a handsome, cream-skinned face adorned with jet-black hair pulled back into a high ponytail on the man's head. The man's eyes rested on his and D was startled at their glittering darkness. The dark man smiled to reveal a pair of short fangs.

D refused to allow his face to contort in confusion, for despite his appearance, the man was not a pureblooded vampire. The torch flame continued to burn golden. But there was that familiar air around him, though D could not sense a trace of human blood that would temper it.

The dark man approached the bars and smiled even wider with feigned politeness. His head turned to take in the sight of the blood on the wall before turning back to regard D.

"Not to your liking? I'm a bit surprised that the son of the famed Vampire Lord would find the grade unsuitable. It was quite virgin, I assure you," the tall man said.

"Who are you?" the hunter ordered.

The man's face lit up as if flattered. "Manx. Most honored to meet you, Majesty." He bowed with deliberate exaggeration.

"What do you want with me?" D asked, feeling his anger rise.

"Well, to be precise, what I want with you is irrelevant. You're here ultimately by my master's orders." The black-haired man gave D a frightening smirk.

"And who would that be?" the dhampire pressed, uncomfortable with the depth of the eyes that reprimanded and sucked him in.

"In time. He will strike the bargain for your freedom himself, as was his desire. But until that time comes, you'll be under my care."

"Are you of the Barbarois?" D asked.

Manx turned his back. "Not exactly, though we do have common interests." The door groaned again as it opened and he stopped for a moment. Turning back to D he said, "Oh yes, your meals will be brought once a night. I advise you to take them if you wish to recover your and your companion's strength."

The door closed and locked behind the dark man as his sinister laughter filled the space. D glared after him, gritting his teeth. He sank back down on the cot and pressed his back against the wall as he folded his arms again. Slipping his eyes shut, D thought fiercely. The man had claimed to be separate from the Barbarois. Yet he served some unseen "master". Perhaps the Barbarois were hired to protect whoever this person was. They did have their weakness for money as much as anyone else. Yet there seemed to be something cryptic lodged in the bird creature's ridiculous words. The more he thought about it, the stranger it became, and the more tired it made him feel.

D ushered himself into a trance to clear his mind, but it wasn't long before he fell asleep against the hard stone wall.

* * *

The sound of the door's lock sliding back with a click roused the hunter from his uneasy slumber. The torchlight burned just as steadily as when he had first become aware of his surroundings, and he could not tell for certain how much time had elapsed. The heavy door creaked ajar but he ducked his head so that his large-brimmed hat would conceal his eyes. He soon heard a tray's light metallic tap as it touched the floor followed by the rustle of garments. A long moment passed and the prison guard had still not left.

"I know you're awake, Hunter."

D did not move. "What of it?"

Manx grinned and clasped the bars. "Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to see your gorgeous eyes glare at me with hatred."

"Where is this master of yours? I wish to speak to him," the hunter said indifferently from beneath his hat.

"Impatient are we? I'm afraid that he is terribly busy and cannot see you until a later time. But there is other business to attend to for now." Manx stepped through the bars as if they were made of air.

The hunter started when he felt a chill hand slip beneath his chin. He had not heard the man step inside his cell, nor were the bars moved in any way. Manx must have seen a brief glimmer of shock in his eyes for he was smiling with pure amusement. D clamped a hand around the imposing one's wrist and squeezed with all his force. But Manx was completely unfazed. D narrowed his eyes.

"Ah, there it is. You're beautiful when you're seething with hate." Manx suddenly reversed D's grip with his own and held firm as he forced his mouth over the hunter's.

D drew back with disgust but the wall blocked his escape. Manx's mouth was uncomfortably cold and enormously unwelcome. But the more he tried to resist, the more tired he became. He could feel his energy flowing slowly from his body, tingling like aftertaste on his tongue as it transferred to his oppressor. But Manx released him sooner than he had expected. D's head fell slack to his chest, his neck taut and sore.

"The little one wasn't very good, but you are quite the opposite," Manx said and walked gingerly from the cell. Before he left the cramped room he said, "Give and take, dhampire. Please revive yourself before I suck you dry . . . and because you're so good I might just do that one of these days. But if I were you, I would not look forward to such a finale." Manx chuckled darkly and sealed the door with a bang behind him.

D's eyes lifted to fall on the chalice left for him in the same place as before. He closed them again and turned his face away, knowing full well what its contents were. And it was then that a frightening thought entered his mind. Immortal though he was by nature, and the need for nourishment could be put off for long periods of time, he was not completely unsusceptible to the threat of death. If Manx continued to take his energy in that manner . . . he would certainly perish.

The chalice seemed to glow like a sort of grail as it reflected the candlelight. D shuddered violently, suddenly wishing the parasite were conscious. He wished for anything but what he was faced with. Confinement did not suit him well, to say the least. Still the vessel beckoned him. D's fangs slowly and painfully began to emerge as thoughts of blood filled his mind. It took every scrap of his will to pull himself away from the thought and concentrate on sleep. But he doubted it would be simple to attain.

If his strength were to be sapped little by little, would it be a painful death? D wondered. His entire life's oath was now hanging by a bare thread. Centuries of abstaining from blood. The one keeping him captive surely must have known this, and was using it quite skillfully against him. If he drank the blood from an unknown victim, no doubt human, he would be no different than those cursed beings that he hunted. Yet if he didn't drink it he would surely die. The two fates rested in a fragile balance, swaying up and down.

D pondered death more deeply. He had done so many, many times before. The more he dwelled on the subject, the more he favored that particular option, for he would not become the thing he hated most if he had any say. But a resisting force pulled from the opposite side. A force that pierced him with agony when he recognized it, a force that made his heart feel devastatingly human.

Visions of his pleading mother holding out the bleeding organ returned to D's memory, and the murky mystery veiling the terrible dreams dissolved. It was his own heart she was pleading for him to recognize; the dream that would foretell of a presence that would steal it from him. The emotion he believed long dead for centuries had been revived and he finally saw it all too clearly, if only too late. Yet with it came some semblance of hope from the messiah who carried it with mystery, grace, and innocence. It was Caruwyn's face that he saw in those last few moments before his body caved into the bitterness of a dreamless sleep in that cold isolated cell.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	16. Wounds Too Deep

Dissolution of Arms

By Eerie

**Chapter Sixteen: Wounds Too Deep**

D's eyes gazed blankly at the indifferent ceiling, threatening to slip shut and usher him into another empty sleep from which he could not be certain he would awaken. It was not often anymore that he would find himself in the harsh reality of consciousness, but he desired it far above the death-like slumber world that was quickly replacing that reality. How long had it been since he first found himself caged within these cold walls? Surely it could not have been more than several days, but the count on Manx's daily visits had blurred into the sensation of years. Now he could hardly bring himself to sit up much less think clearly.

The dark man would bring him a vessel of blood everyday, drawing it close to D's face to let the hunter be painfully sure that it was fresh. But he would not give in. And just when he imagined that the cup would be forced to him, he'd feel Manx's lips instead, drawing him out bit by torturous bit. Too weak to resist, he could only close his eyes and imagine the glorious moon and the freely rolling fields while the man pillaged him. There was undeniable pleasure in the act for his tyrant, but it never went further than what was deemed "necessary". For that, at least, he could offer some thanks. To be sapped of his dignity and strength alike would be too much to bear.

The half-breed's eyelids began to drop, as he had feared. The deathlike sleep would come soon. D wondered how much longer it would be before he was left as nothing more than a husk locked away in that cell, his spirit set free in shreds; if there was anything left of it. His lips parted slightly and drew in shallow breaths of the stale freezing air. But just before he could depart, the familiar sound of rusty hinges pierced the silence. He swallowed painfully.

When the demon's presence drew near, he whispered, a feat of strength. "Tonight."

Manx tilted his head and gazed at the dhampire's stark white features for a moment before replying. "A noble choice indeed. But something holds you back even still."

D breathed deeply but said nothing. The weakness that claimed every inch of his body told him that it must be soon. He inwardly prepared himself for death.

Manx kneeled down and stroked the hunter's hair, smiling. "You are far more courageous than I initially thought. I never expected you to go this long and not cave in to your craving . . . no, your most basic instinct. It's quite admirable. And now here you stand, at the threshold of death itself without fear." He drew his hand away.

The silence that followed his words was like a raging roar. The wait in that onslaught was perfect pain, but D refused to breath in those moments. Finally, the sensation he awaited touched him. But the cold agony was no longer a part of it. No, the kiss was soft, excruciatingly warm. From it he could almost feel supernatural light, though no sign of this graced the dark behind his eyelids. Was this the Kiss of Death? D wondered. But the last thread of his spirit was not being touched; rather, it felt as though it were being restored. Perhaps he was already dead. Still, that kiss held no malice. Manx would never be so forgiving.

D suddenly burned with a desire to know. With great care, he opened his eyes. But he did not see empty black ones gazing back at him. What he did see was somehow proof that he had indeed passed into the realm of the dead. But the longing to believe otherwise was strong, and he did not want to let go of the only source of warmth he had felt in so long down in that tomb. No, it was more than that. It was pure and utter relief, a sensation he had rarely felt so fully in his life.

The delicate lips drew away to hover just above his, and he was allowed to call the name that had not ceased to haunt him since he had learned it.

"Caruwyn?"

The albino's eyes opened to regard him. Those glittering ruby orbs that held such shockingly deep sadness for their youth stilled his heart for a moment and D knew it was no hallucination. It was enough; he didn't need the sweet and innocent smile, though it was gifted to him anyway.

"Why did you invite your death a moment ago?" Caruwyn asked, his breath hot.

The memory of that first night of their meeting returned to D's mind in vivid detail; he had said those very same words.

But instead of waiting for a reply, Caruwyn continued. "It's not the pain of knowing that you are weak or trapped in a cold, strange and unforgiving place, is it? It's being alone with nothing more than memories that you know cannot be attained again. It's the heartache. But I've come to realize that those wounds can't be healed."

Caruwyn pulled away, taking the long-desired heat with him. "Strange that death is the last resort when it's the most beautiful escape."

"How . . ." D murmured.

"But you had only to rethink your vow to abstain from blood. Something so simple. Are your convictions so strong that you would deny your very life to be saved? I cannot understand that. Why are their lives so important? Those humans you fight so gallantly to save? They kill to survive. Why should they be given the illusion of immortality? Tell me." Caruwyn crossed his arms and stood patiently for his answer.

The meaning behind his words struck horror in D. Caruwyn was not also a prisoner, but here by his will. And the nature of those questions made it sound as if he were involved in the hunter's imprisonment and torture. Any attempt to summon that newfound strength failed him.

"Why?" D gasped.

"I've always known there was something powerful flowing in my veins, and I'm sure you've noticed it too. No doubt that was the reason you picked me up. But I never imagined it would be so glorious. I wanted you to be with me, so I had to test you." Caruwyn smiled and snorted as he lowered his head. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd win."

The albino unfolded his arms. "No matter. You're here nonetheless. All I really need is this." Caruwyn bent and gingerly pulled the pendant around D's neck up into sight. "I trust you won't mind, if you still long for death?"

Confusion melded with rage and D saw red. His fangs began to emerge as his irises slowly took on a shade that matched Caruwyn's.

"You might kill yourself if you expend your energy like that," the youth stated, intrigued. "But you needn't worry. I won't force anything from you. So, in exchange for this stone you may go free, and if you choose, you may stay by my side in strength. Or you can refuse and die. Either way I'll get what I want."

"You're not yourself," D growled.

Caruwyn dropped the jewel and laughed. "Oh my dearest D, I've never been more myself."

"I don't believe it."

The albino smirked and closed his eyes. "So you don't want to answer then. Perhaps you need a bit more persuasion. I seem to recall an agreement we made some time back. In exchange for your invaluable lessons in swordplay, I'd teach you the art of sculpture. And truly it is an exquisite art, the art of beautifying through carving and manipulation. Are you still interested?"

D's rage yielded to the stab of pure dread that seized him when Caruwyn regarded him with eyes of deep and icy blue. A struggle to the death was what his body braced itself for; his fangs still would not retract for his imminent fear. He clenched his muscles tight and began to sit up, but the weight of the younger dhampire's body fell swiftly upon him and hands harboring shocking power seized his wrists, thrusting them up above his head. D struggled to free himself but found with dismay that he was held firm.

"You still deny me?" Caruwyn whispered sultrily in the prince's ear before squeezing his captive's wrists harder.

D groaned in pain and turned his head away. "Why are you doing this, Caruwyn?"

The albino removed his grip and began to work the fastenings at D's neck. "As payback, remember? That was your very suggestion," he said and laughed darkly.

The Dhampire Prince realized his hands were free, yet he could still not move them. Something unphysical remained to bind them. He tried to wrench away once again but Caruwyn was too strong.

The albino pulled the armor and undershirt from the older half-breed's body with a fluid ease that wouldn't disturb the spell on his former mentor's wrists. His fine nails trailed down D's chest in appreciation.

"Just as lovely as when I first saw you that night in the river. Do you know how much I wanted to touch you then? Of course you did," Caruwyn murmured strangely.

"Stop this," D said, drawing in quick breaths.

"Stop? But I haven't even begun," the youth said, blue eyes flashing.

Caruwyn half turned to the cell bars and lifted a hand toward them. In the distance came the clatter of something heavy and metallic as it approached from the stairway. A long shallow tray filled with various tools suddenly slid under the prison door and grated across the floor toward him. The object stopped within easy reach and Caruwyn made use of this fact as he bent to select a thick, handled needle that spanned the entire length of his forearm.

"The first rule is to choose the right tools for your object. You always start with the largest of these," the albino said factually.

"Caruwyn, please," D began but was stopped short when a scream shredded his dry throat.

The needle plunged into his side slowly but shallowly, releasing a brilliant stream of blood. It was with equal slowness that it slid upward, tearing a long trail through the hunter's skin. Caruwyn's face revealed no emotion as he extracted the tool and mirrored the wound on the opposite side.

D screamed again, its sound reverberating in the hard hollow room. The sound of the thick tool clattering to the floor followed.

Caruwyn bent again and gathered a handful of long steel rods. When he resumed his position, a look of confusion crossed his face. "Don't tell me you're ready to quit already. I gave you that bit of strength for a reason. Surely you haven't spent it so soon?"

A wicked smile lit up his young features as he pinched the skin just above the first laceration and impaled a narrow rod through it, a howl of agony rewarding him. Three more followed in succession before the ritual was carried out even more slowly on the second deep wound.

Blackness threatened to dominate D's mind. The screams that came one after another had a will of their own and he could hardly hear them behind the paralyzing pain. If not for the tearing sensation in his throat, he wouldn't have known whether or not he was screaming at all. His breath came in pants and his head felt light.

Caruwyn leaned close to his ear again. "And my favorite, the detailing tools. They have a certain kind of intimacy you could say."

The albino drew up a narrow rod with a fine point and placed it at the base of the pendant before dragging it with deadly precision down the center of the prince's breast. The tool's path veered off to meet the base of the first cut before the movement was repeated for the other side.

D's mind reeled as tears spilled unheeded from his eyes. The pain was fine and stinging, and he wondered how many kinds he would be subject to under the hands of the one he would never in his life imagine capable of such tortures. He could feel his essence surfacing hot in the wake of each tiny movement of the steel.

"Magnificent. Your body is even more beautiful when it's covered in blood," Caruwyn sighed and continued to drag the sharp object through the smooth skin beneath him.

The outskirts of unconsciousness away from the blinding pain were just within reach when the sensations lifted away. D came tumbling back to full realization just before he felt something warm slick through his wounds. A wave of nausea gripped him when he cracked his eyes open and discovered that Caruwyn was devouring him.

The youth dragged his tongue along the Dhampire Prince's torso, savoring the spoils of his work. When he lifted his head to meet the smoky eyes staring at him in disbelief he smiled, his lower face smeared in blood.

"My finest piece," he said and laughed in his throat. Sapphire eyes gleamed like a wild animal.

The last image D had before slipping into the clawing fingers of darkness was Caruwyn's blood-smattered face alight with horrifying ecstasy.

When D reawakened, he was alone. But pain was still sitting like a beast at the edge of the chasm of consciousness, waiting greedily to claim him. He groaned in desperation when he realized his body had done little healing while he slept. Chancing a look down, he saw that the torrents of red were cleaned away, but the wounds and steel rods remained. Surprisingly, the jewel did as well. His head fell to the side as he breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind. But the torture proved too recent and he began to writhe in an attempt to sit up. Suddenly he caught sight of something that seemed out of place. The gate in the cell bars laid open.

Clenching his tired muscles, the half-breed began the task. He could feel each bit of fresh skin that marked the start of his healing tear open as he pulled himself up and cried out. Stars danced in his vision but he moved on. He reached down and held his breath as he yanked the first of the steel objects from his flesh. With great agony he freed the others from the skin that began to grow to them and nearly fell back into the mindless dark he had just stepped from. Breathing hard, D opened his eyes.

Looking about, he realized his clothes remained in the cell. Carefully he retrieved them and pulled them on, fighting to ignore the pain. He fastened his mantle and placed his wide-brimmed hat low on his brow before undergoing the feat of standing. Slowly he pushed himself up; streams of searing hot blood weaved down his torso and soaked his undershirt.

D swayed for a moment, but allowed the blood to return to his head. As he made his way to the prison door he wondered if its state was intentional. He was certain he was walking into a trap, but he could do nothing if he stayed there. He paused and gripped the bars to rest, breathing hard. Images of Caruwyn's mad blue eyes and pale face stained with his blood seared his mind. He didn't know what was going on, but he still knew that the young dhampire, who had swooned at his first kill, could never be capable of such sadistic things. Someone had to be controlling him, he was sure of it. In all his life he had never felt such turmoil of emotions, save the death of his mother countless centuries ago. But he had no power then. And if he had any now, he would find a way to bring Caruwyn back. That bit of determination revived him.

D's hand itched to grip his sword again, but he could do nothing about that. Instead, he searched the small space on the other side of the gate for anything that would serve as a weapon. The torch flickered and D's eyes slid down to its finely pointed base. It would have to do. He ripped it from the rickety sconce and made for the stairway that lay beyond the dungeon door.

Ascending them slowly, his feet made not a sound. The flame in the torch crackled to betray him but there were no signs of life other than his own in the deep stairwell. Another doorway soon came into view just a few paces away and the hunter braced himself. The structure looked heavy and old, which meant that it would probably rent the air with the sound of screaming hinges once opened. It was with deliberate care that he inched it ajar.

Beyond he could see a great hall with the tattered banners of the Barbarois hanging upon the stone walls. Candelabras burned dimly beside them, casting long shadows over the bare floor. Further down was a great stone throne blanketed in thick cobwebs that spoke of years, perhaps centuries of neglect. Above it hung a coat of arms bearing the likeness of some undeterminable, hideous beast for its crest. Still, there seemed to be no one, nor nothing, present.

D set the torch on the step below him and slipped through the doorway like a feline before striding silently toward the crest. The swords behind it looked as antiqued as the family symbol the coat marked, but they were still swords. After glancing over his shoulder, D stepped up on the throne and tested one, surprised to find that it came away easily.

As he looked for signs of rust on the old metal, a faint scrabbling sound perked his ears. It approached so swiftly he barely managed to whirl about and glide the blade through the multi-legged monster's throat. The beast's head landed across the room, its pile of eyes bulging with surprise. D cast a look of contempt at it and descended lightly to the floor.

On the wall to his right a pair of massive iron sconces' candles sputtered and fizzled, drawing his attention to a wide open doorway. Beyond the orifice's arches laid another upward-twisting stairwell, the breaths of air down which seemed far less stale than the stifling environment of the ancient hall. D crossed the floor lightly and cast a prudent look behind him to see that there were no more lurking things waiting for his turned back before mounting the first step. With each one thereafter D sensed a stronger and stronger vibration in the air that could only mean that the stairwell's destination would be one of no ease to conquer.

Stumbling, D caught himself and hugged his arms tight against the fiery jolts of pain that shot through his body. He felt the wounds begin to ooze blood again, slicking him uncomfortably beneath his clothes. Suddenly a large, wiry black rat skittered from a crack in the wall and swept past him in a flurry of sharp claws and hideous squeals. With gritted teeth, he pushed himself back up and continued the winding coil of stairs.

Finally, the end was near. There was no heavy door waiting for him this time, only a few stray gusts of cold air that danced from the open archway. Pausing to catch his breath, D felt something invisible tugging at his mind, pulling him inexplicably to the other side of the doorway. Bracing his hand firmly on the foreign sword, D covered the final few steps.

Standing at the threshold was like reliving a nightmare. Another throne room faced him; a room drenched in darkness, save for the dim golden glow emanating from the tall structure on the far wall. Shadows that seemed to seethe gripped the edges of that light. The air felt as if it were laden with ice and D watched his breath cloud into thin white plumes. But nothing else stirred.

He went slowly, wanting to save his strength for whatever dangers that laid in wait for him. He had no doubt that they were eager to finish what Caruwyn had started, but he kept his attention solely on the large throne before him, somewhat relieved to see from the dim light that it was not made from bones.

A man was now seated in the royal structure with his hands spread to clasp either arm of the throne, his legs crossed, and head held firm as he waited for the hunter to approach. His long onyx hair hung loose about his shoulders and hid his eyes.

"Feeling better?"

D halted and held his sword out to the side. "What is your purpose?"

Manx lifted and studied a pale, long-nailed hand. "To have purpose is a blessed thing. But I fear ours are far too different."

Slamming his hand back on the arm of the stone seat, the demon lifted himself and retrieved a sword propped against its side. He began to close the distance between them slowly, swinging the sword back and forth at his side with nonchalance.

"Would you finally be at peace when every last vampire and dark creature in this world lies dead at your feet? What would you do then if that time were to come? Would you turn the sword on yourself?"

D took a defensive stance.

Manx chuckled. "A hunter till the end. It's truly a shame you could never become anything more. You forget you have the blood of the Vampire Lord coursing through your veins. Imagine the power you could wield. It is the same with Caruwyn, his powers are extraordinary."

"You forget that he carries the blood of humans as well," D replied.

"Humans? They mean nothing. His father's fatal weakness was caused by nothing more than a human. It was because of her that he became the pathetic wretch of a vampire he was before being delivered into the hands of death. By his own son no less." Manx laughed with dark amusement.

The hunter ground his teeth.

Stopping in mid-step, the demon looked surprised. "Did I touch a nerve somewhere?" His look of feigned alarm melted into a cruel smirk.

"You're using him," D said evenly.

Resuming his stride, Manx brought the sword up. "Ah but that's where you're wrong. I've shown him more than he could have ever hoped to learn. I've shown him who he really is . . . the potential of his powers. The two of us are bound to one another. Because of this, that precious human blood in his veins is weak. It has been from the moment of his conception."

"What are you talking about?" D all but growled, feeling his cuts pulse and burn hotter as the demon came closer.

"He carries my blood in his veins as well, and thus, he belongs to me. Such a perfect balance of essences. I contracted a seal to his father's blood that would create such perfection, in case he should abandon the nature of his darkness, turn weak and mate with a filthy human. So you see, I won anyway. Meier is dead and I attained his only son."

What weakness plagued his every nerve and muscle faded to churning white anger but the hunter's face gave nothing away.

"Now, about that unfinished deal. Have you come to a decision? Will you give it freely or will you die?" Manx stopped just paces before the hunter and pointed his shining sword at the pendant against D's breast.

The prince responded by swinging his blade up to knock the demon's own away in one powerful blow. D watched as Manx stumbled and recomposed himself, a look of rage crossing his pale young features.

The man's fearful black eyes flashed with malignance and his long shining hair flew wild. "So be it."

At those words, the seething shadows melted from their confines and slid grotesquely over the cracked stone floor to enclose the two swordsmen, blocking any means for escape. Their throaty chuckling and groaning hung in the air all around the freezing room as steaming tongues and glowing eyes slid in their cavities.

D felt them creeping closer, nauseated by their stinking hot bodies that surrounded him tightly in that huge frigid room. His body tensed as he held his sword out, waiting.

"I couldn't completely replace the feelings he has for you, those which should be for me alone. I'll never forgive you that. You'll see that what he did to you is nothing compared to what I'll do before you beg to draw your last breath," Manx snarled.

The dim gold light flickered to rusty red, casting the room in a hue of fresh decay before Manx matched D's stance. Only the disgusting seething of unholy shadowed creatures could be heard in that tense moment the signal was awaited.

To be continued . . .

11


	17. Savior

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Savior**

* * *

What was subtle fuzziness of anticipation now grew and expanded to choking electric disdain between the uncommon adversaries.

The dim light steeped in vermilion hue made it difficult to see, but from the depths of its grotesque darkness Manx's coal-black eyes glittered as if with unshed tears. Or pure hatred. D stared levelly into them, refusing to spare the threatening shapes welling on all sides of him even a cautious glance. His breath unfurled and evaporated like blood-laden steam in the chill as the wait for battle dulled the contrasting burn mapped into his skin from skillfully wielded steel. He would not lose to such an abomination, the thing with such dark and strange motives that it would willfully cripple his mind when it could have easily taken what it coveted.

And yet, even now, a fractional portion of the hunter's mind wondered for what purpose a simple gem could be so thirstily desired. Manx knew something of his heritage, but also something more. He had claimed that he seduced Meier in the past; could he have known that the vampire had a similar stone in his possession? Or was it for the purpose of begetting a child with a bizarre mixture of blood? There had to be a reason.

From the far wall behind the massive throne, the flames crackled and dipped.

Coal-black eyes suddenly snapped open wide and the demon's agile body pivoted to rush forward. His blade ascended and fell heavily into the steel of D's fortunate barrier.

The half-breed held the surprisingly sturdy sword against the amazing strength of the blow. With deadly grace he swooped low and around, throwing Manx off balance. The latter's sword clanged loudly against the stone floor as D ducked away.

The demon chuckled lowly and resumed his stance. "Not bad, hunter. But how long will that weak body of yours be able to last?"

A feral growl erupted from the villain's throat before he took the offensive once more, slashing madly. D drew his blade high and low with speed enough to match his attacker's, which had never before been much of a feat. But Manx only seemed to bring his weapon down harder and fiercer with each thrust. With a wide swing from overhead the demon forced D to roll aside.

The solid floor was of no comfort to the hunter's wounded body as he dodged that singularly fatal attack. He stopped himself from barreling straight into the strange margin of nocturnal beasts just in time. The creatures moved in closer, and a few dared a scaly appendage forward to paw at the dhampire's unguarded leg. But before they could wonder at the taste of the flesh beneath the flexible armor, D gathered himself up and inched away, only to be thrown back down with a kick from his opponent. Manx pressed his foot brutally into the half-breed's chest before the latter could stand.

"Yield, D," the dark man said, "You're not just up against me, but fate itself. What chance do you think you have in such a pathetic state anyway?" He lightly touched his sword upon the hunter's throat. "It's destined that Caruwyn reopen the gate that keeps us locked from our rightful freedom in the night. You should be a part of that. Why fight it?"

D glared up. "What is it about these stones that could do that?"

A cold smirk hooked a cruel corner of Manx's pale lips. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

D said nothing.

The demon cocked his head with introspection. "Have you ever wondered about that gem around your lovely throat? A gift it was, I suppose, with no questions asked. After all, you were not but a child when it was bestowed into your keeping. Did your small heart tremble against it when your father met his unfortunate end?"

The dhampire tightened his fingers around the sword in a bloodless grip. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Manx smiled fully and tilted his head back. Shadows spilled into the hollows of his eyes. "Your father had a very close friend centuries upon centuries ago. An intelligent and equally powerful companion. But this man, this vampire, was constantly curious to know things about his race. Where did they come from? What was their purpose? Things all foolish breeds tend to think about. But he was not a fool, actually, he was strange. Visions of a bloody future haunted his dreams, and he was convinced that there would be a time of great despair and oppression for his people and others like them."

The demon lifted his blade from D's throat and began to twirl it nimbly in his graceful fingers, confident that his tale would hold the hunter in his place without attacking. He continued, "A prophet, perhaps he was. This man was also a remarkably skilled crafter of stones and metals. A true artist. But as his nightmares and visions became more and more vivid, he let his work slag, and spent all his time bent over journals to scribble out his perceived madness. It was your father who first approached him with concern. You see, the poor creature had kept these silent torments locked up inside him, thinking them as some kind of personality flaw that would certainly reveal itself in his work.

"With a bit of persuasion he recounted the dreams, though all the while he waited for his most beloved friend to scoff and declare his suspicions concerning his sanity true. But on the contrary, the dreary future this man foresaw had struck an alarming chord in your father's mind, and the two began to conspire. The plan they formed was marvelous. Such a brilliant scheme is irresistible, let me assure you."

D kept his weapon clutched close and stood slowly, his desire to fight fading into the biting chill. "And how would you know this?" he asked quietly, somewhat wearily.

"As I said, such unusual trysts are difficult to ignore. Like the lust that wells up within at the mere waft of hot blood." Manx bared his short fangs in sheer mirth at his comparison. "I am what I am, after all. More ancient than the vampires, my kind."

The hunter observed the tall man stonily, though in reality his interest was piqued. He could sense no falsity in the demon's words.

"I was there. From the shadows on the border between worlds I watched as the light of inspiration returned to the crafter's eyes and the miracle to his hands. Two stones of deepest blue, birthed from the heart of the City of Night and forged with every ounce of natural power that dwelt within the vampires' blood. And what beautiful pieces they were." Manx shook his head slightly, his face almost whimsical with memory.

He suddenly lifted his head and stared into D's eyes. "The crafter sealed one to his lineage and the other to your father's. It was agreed that if the occasion ever arose when the power harnessed within these stones was needed, they would be called together. So deeply tied to the very essence of the City of Night and its glorious inhabitants, the jewels would throw aside anything hindering the paths to that plane. Like a sort of defensive response, you could say. Though, it's never been done."

Manx lifted his sword theatrically to catch the dim red light. "There they were. The means to freely control a place of eternal darkness. So close . . ." His weapon suddenly sliced the air, falling within a hair's breadth of hunter.

D was so absorbed in the strange tale that he was caught completely off guard when Manx's fidgeting turned into what could have been a fatal lash, and he physically flinched.

The demon smiled at this but did not attack. "I began having my own dreams. Dreams of drawing that eternal night down into my hands. But the vampires were too powerful, and I could not challenge them for the stones. So I watched them over the long centuries. I witnessed the migration to Earth and the great Bloodlust that followed with absolute glee . . ." His black eyes lit up as he gazed into D's gray ones. "And I watched their children grow."

Gray orbs became slits.

"That's right. I knew of your possession of the gem since it came to you," Manx said factually.

"Then why didn't you take it from me?" D asked lowly.

The demon's eyes shifted to study the grotesque creatures about the massive room. His expression was bland. "The most valuable gift your father passed on to you is one not to be seen. I could not challenge you and expect to win. However, bloodlines tend to weaken. And I didn't expect you would ever have children of your own."

A small smile formed on his mouth. "But the crafter's lineage continued, each with power still too strong to trifle with. Until one child in particular was born and grew into the shape of a man. Yet even from his early childhood did he capture my interest. Such a hold on me, this creature had, that I was willing to overlook my very nature and throw away the chance to claim the keys I had sought for so long, devoted my entire being to possessing. He was the most beautiful beast ever to walk on this earth. His silent suffering, that constant turmoil to come to terms with his very existence."

Manx closed his eyes, lost in memory. The total drop of defenses startled D too much to take the chance and attack. He was welded to the ground. And yet it was as if they hadn't been fighting at all; the atmosphere had become almost surreal.

"I found in his embraces a passionate welcome. But it was from the constant darkness that he dwelled in that it sprung, for he longed to taste the light; a grace I could never grant him." Manx's voice gradually hardened. "When he learned of this, I became a mistake, a stone in the dim path he walked to send him reeling further down. Fortunately, I took precautions should this happen. Blood for blood. Give and take. And with that final act did the fate of the stone's inheritor become sealed unto me."

Realization spread its great black wings in D's mind. Meier's son. The only one who could not refuse for the presence of this demon's blood in his veins.

"You . . ." D began in a tone that bordered on loathing.

"It all came out quite masterful after everything I went through," Manx said. "And Caruwyn turned out even more exquisite than I had ever imagined. It was so simple with him. And his effect on you. Well . . . I suppose as much as I despise you for the stubbornness of his remaining emotions, I'm also grateful. For Caruwyn has become the source for your dissolution of arms."

The memory of that raw desperation melded into Caruwyn's kiss beside the moonlit river burned through the hunter's mind. The quiet echo of the young man's voice. The radiant innocence within those ruby eyes, outshining the midsummer stars. No, whatever Manx said, he was not responsible for these things. He could never control the searing truth in Caruwyn's words. His silent actions. His love . . .

Manx spoke bitterly. "Did you know that you had the power to regenerate yourself the entire time you laid down in that prison? Even when I sucked you out and offered you blood, which you hardly needed. Yet you did nothing, such was the depth of your despair. And when Caruwyn relinquished that it was all his idea," Manx paused to allow himself a throaty laugh that made the walls shiver. "I must admit that was entertaining. The look in your eyes will never escape me.

"Yes, it's true I've awakened his blood to make him more powerful than any vampire in the history of their existence. It was his fate since birth, the fate I chose for him, for he is also my son. He has become the "One", the Prince that will lead the night's rightful heirs back to their place of power and destroy those that oppress us. But there's still a part of him that struggles with all its might. So yes, I'll admit that I have been controlling him to some degree in order to teach him and cast his feeble attachments aside. But to others he acts of his own will."

"I don't believe that," D said in perfect, harnessed anger. "You deceived him, pushed him too far away from himself to have any control. You stole and fed upon his spirit to replace it with one of your own kind. For that, you will die."

Manx's hatred intensified. The demon's countenance shifted with bitter wickedness. "You're quite wrong. He's been there the entire time, trying to resist me whenever he was near you . . . but you were too caught up in your pathetic hopelessness to notice it."

The demon blinked lazily and smiled sadistically. "You know, at one particular moment he broke away from my example, the moment when your eyes were locked tight in agony and your screams ripped your throat raw, you didn't see the tears burning his perfect cheeks."

That final flash was so blinding that D fell to his knees. Anger, white and molten ripped through every fiber of his body, scouring his veins with fire. D's fangs emerged long and fearfully sharp as the storms of his eyes melted to the shade of a bleeding sunset. He barely felt the creatures surrounding the room suddenly fling themselves over him, ripping and clawing into his armor and skin. A hazy light formed and quickly grew about him like some holy white shield to throw aside anything that tried to touch him.

The beasts shrieked hideous sounds and scattered to retreat from the light, but it was too late. Their bodies didn't have a chance to hit the floor before they were reduced to filmy ash and scattered about.

Manx slowly walked backward to remain at the edge of the burning circle. The red glow that issued sickly from the candles leapt from the flames, leaving a thin trail of snuffed smoke in its wake. It encircled his body in swirling wisps of unnatural fire.

"It's too late! You cannot win, dhampire!" the demon screamed against the stark contrasting rush of hot wind to cold. "His fate belongs to me!"

But D did not hear him. His body reeled with sheer electric energy, his mind bent on nothing more than desire to defeat this monster. The hot gusts spread further out from his crouched form, the shield expanding but not weakening. All that was pain and numbness within faded drastically. Feral growls rumbled in his throat.

Manx observed the shift cautiously. Though his own shield kept the hunter's from burning him, he couldn't help but to continue edging away. When the backs of his legs touched the monstrous throne he had nowhere else to go. Clutching his sword before him like a channel, Manx closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath. Presently, the icy red flames sputtered and danced, pushing the boundary out further from his body until it collided with D's.

The vampire hunter stood with deadly grace, his long wavy hair floating about his face like silken serpents. His eyes glared crimson and shining, twin moons on an eve steeped in blood. His bared teeth made him resemble a wild animal on the verge of a kill, poised and ready. The long mantle swooped and tumbled at his back like a great set of wings. D's glare found Manx and set upon him as if nothing else in the world mattered, or even existed.

The demon stared back into the dhampire's eyes, confident with his own powers, yet almost dreading the unknown limits of the hunter's. The barriers cracked and fizzled at the point of contact to send red and white electric ribbons rippling over their skins. Sparks spilled to the ash-ridden floor.

D was filled beyond the brim with surging light and metaphysical strength. His entire life had been devoted to harnessing justice for those unable to do so. It was his very reason for living, that loathing for his own cursed existence turned to purpose. But now the injustice hit far too close. D barely felt his wounds' rapid healing, barely felt the battling sensations of hot and cold sweeping over him. Pain was a word unknown but for the claws grappling for ground deep in his chest.

Manx summoned life to the flames entwining around him, his lips moving silently. But they could not complete the incantation before failing their owner and falling slack. The black-haired man watched in astonishment as the hunter's feet slowly abandoned the ground. Now a perfect sphere, the barrier around the half-breed's body grew brighter. Cracks the breadth of spiders' legs splayed over the stone floor directly beneath before expanding to split and throw chunks of slate aside. The demon ground his teeth.

D hovered just inches above the floor, the winds around him increasing in speed. But he was only remotely conscious of it, and it held no shock for him. Manx was all that existed before him, a black shadow blocking the light. He took the first step forward, moving at first with deceiving slowness.

Manx had only a fraction of a second to react when the hunter's sword suddenly lashed out and pierced through his barrier. But even for the demon, it was not enough time. The tip of the blade tore in blinding swiftness through his arm just above the elbow and swiped into the tender skin of his side, baring his ribs.

When the second was over, Manx staggered back in total shock. His weapon crashed at his feet. He watched his hand bounce dully against the floor, its fingers curl together ceremoniously like the legs of a dead insect. Blood as dark and rich as ink spilled from the neatly severed stump of his upper arm and the burning gash that displayed the chipped bone of his ribs beneath. Having seen wounds similar to these, yet never on his own body, Manx stood still, numb with confusion and fascination. The vermilion flames faded.

A second later, something heavy and excruciating fell against his shoulder. The agonizing, ripping sensation rented him once again, more deeply. D's blade had forced a brutal trail down the demon's left side with such speed, the flesh severed seemed momentarily unsure. Manx's black eyes widened impossibly as his body detached that irreparable portion of flesh and sent it splattering and wriggling to the ground.

Burning precision shot completely through his right thigh the third second. With the sudden loss of strength and means to stand, Manx landed hard into the pool of murky blood that flowed and expanded like a crawling darkness beneath his own maimed body. His breath hitched violently when it became difficult to breathe at all and the sluggish state of motion in which everything happened returned to normal, too fast to grasp reality.

D stared down upon the broken form at his feet, his face revealing nothing. But he would not be merciful. He jerked his sword to send away the black blood clinging to it. For a brief moment he allowed himself gratification in the demon's shock and suffering. But it still wasn't enough.

Manx did not scream. His dismembered limbs twitched and emitted an endless river of obsidian over the indifferent floor while indescribable pain ate him alive. Instead, he lifted his head and looked into the Dhampire Prince's garnet eyes, a smirk overtaking his bloodied lips. A chuckle involuntarily escaped him, causing more blood to fountain grotesquely from a split lung. But he continued to laugh, its sound like a smothered gurgle from one on the verge of drowning.

"Useless . . ." Manx said hideously and his essence gushed over his chin.

The blade swept fluidly through the demon's throat. Long black hair fell in thick strands to half conceal the smile on the face that now rested on its bleeding stump of a neck in the seat of the throne. Jet eyes slipped closed.

D stood still, scarcely breathing. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the black-haired man's head, half expecting it to reanimate and expel a string of vehement words. But the silence was a dense invisible blanket sagging over the room and nothing happened. The muscles in the half-breed's hands cramped and flexed, causing the old blade to crash upon the floor. The startling metallic sound shook D from his state of suspension and he descended to the ground. The windy barrier dissipated and curled away.

Slumping to his knees, the half-breed trembled and breathed deeply. Bracing himself with his hands, he underwent the itching pain of retracting fangs that had not fed. His eyes rolled back as they returned to smoky gray.

As he gasped the bitter air, a weak grumbling sound issued from below him. D lifted his eyelids and his hands. The parasite groaned tiredly and shifted its face to study its host.

"What took you so long?" it asked mildly.

D made no reply, but stood and allowed his strength to balance itself within. Soon afterward, he bent and retrieved the sword. Casting one final silent and reproachful glare at the dark man's butchered body, the hunter turned his back upon the grisly throne. As he made his way toward the stairwell leading further from the depths of the Barbarois stronghold, he did not see the perpetual smile fall from Manx's bloodstained lips.

* * *

Creatures of various shapes and substances shrank away at the Dhampire Prince's approach. The hall was long and wide before him, and filled with hesitant monsters. A few screamed shrill cries of hatred in his direction before scampering like rats into the din. Others stood silently and stared daggers tipped with poison at his passing back. The air was full of sour tension.

But D did not pay any of them a glance, though his eyes would have withered them instantly. The figure clad in silken whites at the end of the stretch was the only one his gaze bore into. And that figure stood in total, silent regality, watching in return. He resembled a wingless angel.

Caruwyn held two swords in his loose grasp, one in either hand. Within his right hand rested the silver blade that had been Meier's final gift. D recognized the weapon at the albino's left side as his own. He spared it only a brief look before relocking his eyes upon his former fledgling. Even from the distance between them, he could see that the young man was unchanged from their last encounter, only, his eyes had shifted strangely. Within Caruwyn's left iris lingered crimson temperance. His right remained an icy blue ocean of mystery and malevolence. No expression betrayed the youth's face.

The distance closed slowly, and D finally stopped to leave a wide space of unfamiliarity between them. They stared silently at one another, each waiting for the other to speak. But as much as the hunter wanted to do so, no real words even came to mind. His thoughts were a jumble of phrases he had once hoped to say, accusations, questions, revelations. None of them made themselves clear for none of them seemed appropriate.

Caruwyn suddenly broke the invisible wall of ice binding them. He lifted his left arm slightly and held the dhampire's sword out as an offering. Not a single shift in his countenance made itself evident as D dropped the ornate weapon and cautiously moved forward to take what he had been missing.

As D reached a graceful hand to curl around the familiar curves of his sword's leather-bound hilt, his fingers brushed Caruwyn's slender white ones. The sensation stilled him, and for a moment that seemed to be sliced from a vivid dream, Caruwyn ran those refined fingers with aching gentleness over his. They departed as soon as they arrived and D was left with only his sword, trembling. The hunter studied mismatched eyes, searching for that lost spirit he had come to value beyond his own life.

Those eyes shimmered with agony. Tears as pure as holy water spilled from the orb of frozen fire while liquid garnets escaped the burning sun of his left, as if his eyes had begun to melt.

The albino's lips parted slightly and whispered as softly as an exhalation. "Forgive me."

The dhampire barely heard this meek imploration. Yet he had no time to fill his mind with its implications, for Caruwyn had seized his sliver blade and driven it fully through the hunter's abdomen. Sounds of tearing flesh and cascading blood were louder than the snapping flames.

Dark eyes dropped in astonishment to the point of his impalement. Blood drops shattered against the floor with a resounding hollowness. Even with the sudden shock thrust upon him, D could feel the parasite twitching in agitation. Should he use it? Was there still time? He had made a resolve from the moment of his freedom from the dungeon to try until the very end to bring Caruwyn back. But all that would be useless if he was killed first. No, he wouldn't give up now.

The sword slid harshly from his torso and provoked the hunter to his knees. D pressed his left hand to the wound and coughed up a dark mass of blood as Caruwyn knelt to face him levelly. The hunter blinked slowly and glared into the youth's tear and blood-streaked face.

Caruwyn snatched the sapphire pendant and jerked it cruelly from its chain, offering no concern when the half-breed winced.

"It would have been so much easier on you had you simply offered your compliance. What a waste," the albino said and stood, driving a white-shod foot against D's fresh wound.

Caruwyn rounded and walked away from the hunter's guttural cries, leaving footprints of blood in his wake. As the twin stones leaked indigo light within his hands, Caruwyn gazed at them in awe. With shaking hands he brought them together and carefully released his fingers.

The jewels spun in lazy circles about one another, spewing achingly rich luminescence over the entire hall. The monsters shrieked and backed away in both anticipation and fear. But Caruwyn was grounded, watching their entwined dance with wonder.

Nausea filled D's body at the unmerciful glare. Ignoring the pain that ripped across his nerves, he stood and swaggered, his eyes locked on Caruwyn's turned back. His heart clenched. With careful steps he neared, his sword dragging along the floor at his side.

Caruwyn's lungs burned to breath, but he didn't care, he simply couldn't. He was spellbound by the unfathomable energy flowing from stones. A small crack formed in the light before him, a breach filled with blackness. The fissure sputtered and sparked and began to grow. Caruwyn's bizarre eyes widened further, his mouth falling open. He was not prepared to feel D's massive sword plunge through his back and erupt from his chest.

The albino slowly turned his head away from the magnificent display to face the vampire hunter. His face wore a look of confounded agony as blood dripped out over his lower lip.

D drew his sword from the youth's body and staggered away, watching as Caruwyn, disbelieving, dropped his hands to the wound and pulled them away drenched in crimson. His stark white garments absorbed his brilliant essence greedily.

The obsidian tear threw crimped streaks of lightning over the floor before violently collapsing in on itself. A clap of thunder shook the hall; the hideous blue light faded and diminished as the twin jewels crashed to the floor.

Caruwyn turned fully and began to walk toward D. His voice rang embittered as he snarled, "How . . . could you? Why did it . . . disappear?"

D replied quietly, "You didn't understand, Caruwyn. They were carved to preserve, not to destroy. That is why your father gave it to you."

The albino stumbled and doubled over. "No." His eyes went wide with frustration.

D continued, "Manx didn't understand this either. The worst of him may exist within you, but it isn't this that makes you what you are. Who you really are."

Caruwyn groaned like a vicious animal and tugged at his pale hair. "It's not possible!" he screamed.

"Come back, Caruwyn," D said softly.

The youth pressed his bloodied hands hard against his skull as blood poured from his mouth agape in silent cries. His eyes clenched together hard and his entire body shook. The flames lighting the hall of the Barbarois leapt and blazed, filling the space with light second only to the sun. Walls shook and crumbled, their ancient ornaments abandoning their holds to plummet to the vibrating floor. The remaining monsters now fled for their overwhelming fright and confusion.

After several moments of this deep internal struggle, one final jerk wracked the young man's body. The widespread disturbances ceased, only the low rumble of the castle's foundations could be heard far below. Caruwyn stilled and lifted his hands away from his head. Wearily, he stood and began to walk. But his body was not yet ready to hold him. As his balance fled from his control, the youth's vision focused on the cold hard floor, his mind preparing for the hard knock it was about to receive. And for some reason unknown, it terrified him.

But the floor didn't meet his face with a bruising kiss. Caruwyn opened his eyes. He felt strong arms around him, protecting him from the fall. Familiar arms. He turned his head and sought the stormy eyes he had learned to adore. Those eyes were looking at him with naked sympathy, a sight that filled him with more pain than ten swords through his body.

D silently sighed in relief when the youth's eyes opened, devoid of any shred of icy color.

"D," Caruwyn whispered hoarsely, "why did you save me?"

"Because I wanted to," the half-breed murmured.

"You should have killed me," tears flowed freely down the albino's smooth face as he spoke, "for what I've done to you."

"It wasn't you," D said reassuringly.

"But I was too weak, and couldn't resist enough. Sometimes . . . I didn't want to . . . but I hurt you all the same." A broken sob wracked the young man's body. "Again . . . once again I've done unspeakable things which can't be forgiven."

"Never," D whispered, the wrenching pain deep within spreading until his own eyes burned with tears.

"I never meant to hurt you, please . . . believe me." Caruwyn's eyelids half closed as he began his retreat inward toward destructive darkness.

His inhibitions could no longer have their say. He'd been through too much. Fought for too much. Wasn't that proof enough?

D descended fully over Caruwyn's lips and allowed his blood to flow into the young man's mouth.

Snapping his eyes open in complete surprise, despite his fatigue, the albino was at a loss for what to do. But the warm, salty liquid pouring sensually over his tongue toward his throat made him swallow reflexively. It tasted good. Better than he had had before when he wasn't himself in that terrifying moment, for this was the freely given essence of the one he loved.

Caruwyn opened his mouth further and slid an anxious tongue over D's lips to draw away more of the reviving liquid. Metallic sensations flooded his mouth and filled him with fuzzy ecstasy. He swallowed again, his hunger blossoming like a nocturnal flower.

When the youth pressed harder against his bloody mouth, D obliged him. And when that hungry, feather-soft tongue beckoned his for a dance, he could not draw away. The caressing motions broken only by the occasional swallow of the kiss' hot spoils and pleasant groan became more mutually passionate.

Ignoring the bruises and gradually healing wounds in his skin, D tumbled over Caruwyn, pinning the youth's lithe body beneath him. The latter embraced the hunter tightly, afraid that if he loosened his grip even by a hair's breadth he would lose his savior, his once impossible dream. Neither noticed when their fangs began to emerge, scraping with pleasant pain over tongues and lips to draw out more blood. They devoured each other's mouths, shared each other's blood generously, savoring the exquisite forbidden instinct embedded within that feral action.

The albino's fingers clawed at D's mantle, pulling it away. He ached to touch the perfection of the man's god-like skin. But his armor would not come off so easily.

Despite the intoxicating desire that threatened to overwhelm him, D sensed Caruwyn's intentions and took an unsteady plummet back down to earth. He shuddered and pulled himself away, momentarily lost in the lust-filled crimson eyes that gazed a kind of questioning up at him. His attention fell to the youth's blood besmeared lips and he reflexively shot the back of his hand up to wipe the coppery substance away from his own mouth.

What in god's name am I doing, the hunter asked himself. He stood suddenly, bewildered. But the young man remained sprawled upon the ground, staring up with profoundly innocent inquiry. D wanted to ravish him. Wanted to reopen his wound and melt into his body. Wanted to make him cry out.

The dhampire hastily retrieved his sword and fixed it securely at his back. He heard Caruwyn stir behind him, but could not face the youth just yet. He strode to where the blue gems lay and swiped them up, studying them. The fall had left them without blemish, but the ethereal glow had long vanished. He stowed them safely into his armor.

Finally he turned to the youth, averting his eyes. He said simply, "This place is dangerous."

Caruwyn merely nodded his understanding and picked up his own sword before following the prince over the rubble-littered hall toward the great set of carved doors that led outside. D had been to this place before and far too recently to forget those doors that led him so uncomfortably close to danger. All the same, he had known the Barbarois would not stop their protection of the vampire he hunted at that time.

D mused despite himself. He remembered watching Meier and Charlotte's ship blazing a path toward the City of Night, wondering if it was real, if they would make it. After all that had happened, after all he had known, he finally realized that he had wanted them to. What a strange fate it did turn out to be, he thought.

The pair came up before the giant doors, but no evidence on how to open them became apparent. D glared at them, searching. Something was barring the way.

The parasite within his palm suddenly barked out mentally. 'What in the hell are you doing, D? While you were rolling around on the floor like a goddamned animal you completely let your guard down! Idiot!'

The hunter jumped, nearly forgetting the parasite's recent revival. He silently scoffed, but knew the creature was right. The sensation of eyes was upon them.

"What is it?" Caruwyn asked softly.

"Be on your guard," D said lowly.

To be continued . . .

* * *


	18. Sealed Fate

Dissolution of Arms

By Eerie

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Sealed Fate**

* * *

The quiet rumbling within the foundations of the great castle faded until all was thick with uncomfortable silence. D raised his hand to his sword, grasping the hilt loosely, his eyes scanning the large hall. A cloud of dust and tiny broken stones shook free from the ceiling and bounced against the floor. Once settled, nothing moved. The hall was completely devoid of its usual unsavory inhabitants.

Caruwyn finally caught on to D's sudden weariness and clutched his weapon firmly at his side. He turned around quietly and squinted into the shadows, searching. Nothing made itself visible, but dread began to lick along his insides with an icy tongue. As he drew his eyes carefully over every niche before him, the faintly familiar sensation of cold fingers passed over his skin; he shuddered and wrapped his arms defensively around himself.

D noticed this and stepped closer to the young man. "Is it him?" he asked softly. He recalled how in blinding rage he had butchered the demon's body to pieces. But then again, he had never met with anything quite like Manx. Perhaps it wasn't enough.

"Yes," Caruwyn replied bitterly, dispelling any of his elder's doubts, "he's coming."

The hunter watched carefully for a moment to make sure the youth was not about to suffer any questionable side effects of his recent recovery. The link between he and the demon was strong, and no doubt it took every bit of his strength to hold back that urge to return to his former state of power.

When the half-breed placed an unsure hand on his shoulder, Caruwyn said, "It's alright. I think I can resist him now."

Though D pulled his hand away, he wasn't sure that the albino was convinced of this statement himself. But he chose to keep faith in his young companion.

Suddenly a thin cloud of black smoke wisped and curled over the floor from the deepest shadowed corner. It seemed to dance about the narrow strip of carpet that lined the center of the hall's long stretch, spreading out and twirling in on itself.

"Remember, you know his blood. Perhaps you can control him," the dhampire whispered as he observed the strange smoke.

Caruwyn, too, kept his eyes locked on the curling wisps, and did not reply. He could feel his muscles go rigid with cold one by one. Fear was trying to gnaw him to crumpling, but he would not give in as easily as when Manx conducted that terrible symphony of blood alive within his veins. Not when he knew that he was no longer alone.

The smoke pulsed like a black heart and began to push out its boundaries, growing thicker as it did so. It swirled out over the floor like unfurling tentacles until the entire span of the great hall's floor was concealed beneath.

The two hunters looked at the smoke that entwined with their legs with weariness. It was freezing to the point of nearly burning, and each could feel it pass through their garments as if they wore nothing. D unsheathed his sword and tried to ignore the sensations creeping up his calves.

Caruwyn's red eyes went round in alarm when he saw the murky tendrils begin their spiraling journey up his legs. As much as he tried to kick at them, they would return twofold from the dense sea of dark fog to claim his vulnerable body. He trembled violently and closed his eyes, frozen in place by the almost sensual touch of the demon's spell. Yet it hurt as well, like liquid knives spilling over his skin. It compelled his feet to move.

D's eyes darted to Caruwyn when the youth began to walk away. "What are you doing?" he all but hissed.

The albino said nothing, had not even heard the hunter's question. A different voice had filled his mind.

'Your place is here with me. I gave you my powers and my oath that I would serve you until the end . . . you cannot abandon me. I am part of you.'

Caruwyn ground his teeth and forced his eyes open. 'No,' he answered mentally, 'I don't need you. I never have.'

The voice tsked. 'Come now, do not deceive yourself. Without me, you would be nothing more than a mere half-breed. My blood is a blessing.'

D tried to command his legs to move but found he could no longer control the muscles concealed within the strange fog.

"Caruwyn," he called out and reached a hand toward the retreating man's back.

The albino suddenly stopped and slowly turned his head to regard the hunter. His voice was tinged with sadness. "You came so far to protect me, now let me do the same for you."

D knitted his eyebrows. "I won't let you do this alone."

A small smile hugged the youth's lips. "I know."

Caruwyn turned away from his mentor and continued to walk steadily through the shallow sea of smoke. He reached out with his mind. 'I no longer want your blessing. You tricked my father because you knew he would not truly love you in return. But your plan has failed.' He smirked to provoke the demon further.

A deep, soft growling filled the air before the reply came, dark and unearthly. 'Wretch. We belong to one another. Though I willingly submitted myself to you, remember that I also made you. I can break you as well.'

Caruwyn's smirk broadened to a smile despite the lingering claws of fear within his mind. 'Then do it.'

The lush carpet of freezing smoke quickly rolled away from the vampire hunter's legs. D watched its collapse mutely and kept his sword hand tense. Rumbling claps of thunder vibrated the floor beneath his feet, threatening his balance, but he kept steady. Something was coming.

Standing perfectly still, Caruwyn gazed up at the swirling pillar of onyx smoke that erected at his feet. Thin daggers of deep purple lightening split its hazy skin and struck the center of the whirlwind to birth a bizarre flame that seemed to emanate darkness. Upon merely seeing it, the albino wanted desperately to flee, to escape the inevitable torment he was about to suffer. But he had someone to fight for; and he wasn't about to allow this evil thing, which provoked him to committing unimaginable acts, to win.

The obsidian flame grew and slowly began to take on form. Burning arms lashed out from its whipping dance and stretched toward the ruined ceiling. Its base split and snaked into the shapes of legs. The body of the fire became the lean body of a man. From the coal-black heart of that burning mass arose a slender neck which fanned out gently to form the demon's long-haired head.

The whirlwind sputtered and plummeted down, spilling its force out over the room in gusts of biting wind. Caruwyn and D held their arms against the blast until it completely dissipated and left the hall strangely still.

The dark light that stood before them, though seemingly solid, had no truly discernable features. There were various curves and angles imbedded within it that portrayed a toned muscle or a smooth plane of skin; but they shimmered and disappeared before reappearing to outline some other graceful piece of anatomy when the creature made even the slightest movement. It was like staring at a flickering existence, a flame confined to flesh.

As it wavered, two invisible lids lifted and revealed a pair of shining, unmistakably real, black eyes. They stared in frightening steadiness at the albino not four steps before them before sparing a profoundly icy glare for the vampire hunter.

"Surprised to see me again, Hunter? You know, I really didn't appreciate what you did to me back there," a voice as deadly and rich as venom-laced cream said from no apparent source within the carved flame. "That was my favorite body."

D returned the glare with equal hatred.

"So," the otherworldly voice continued, "I've come to return the favor."

The demon's black flickering form began to move in the prince's direction, but was stopped short by Caruwyn's outstretched sword. Phantom lips smiled with bitter amusement.

"Now really, what do you expect to accomplish with that? Do you actually think you'll destroy me, who am also a part of you, traitor? Be patient. I'll deal with you as soon as I finish with him."

Caruwyn said through clenched teeth, "I won't let you touch him."

Manx laughed, a sound that made both hunters' stomachs twist. "Won't let me? Hmph. You really are too amusing."

The young man wavered imperceptibly. The demon saw this and let his sinister mirth touch his eyes.

Caruwyn was bound by the malignant orbs that drilled into his, and he couldn't move nor speak. He really didn't know precisely how to execute his pledge anyway.

Manx chuckled again and his form shimmered from head to toe, inducing a shift. The black flames subdued to dark gray and continued to lighten as the albino stared at them. Before long, the black shape transformed to flawless white, its face narrowing and hair retracting back into its scalp all the while. Obsidian eyes became rubies.

Caruwyn gaped now, he could do nothing more. The perfect image of his sire stood before him, studying him.

D watched the transfiguration with teeth grinding so hard they felt as though they would break through his jaw. 'Don't fall into his trap, Caruwyn. Fight him,' he thought forcefully, for his tongue would not obey him.

"My son," the new figure said in the exact low tone of Meier's, "why have you abandoned me?"

The young man's eyes involuntarily began to water as shook his head and said simply, "No."

"You lost the keepsake that I have entrusted to you. You let it fade, and so did I fade along with it." The pale form looked away from Caruwyn's eyes. "Do you love this reckless hunter more than your own father?"

Tears slid down the youth's face as his body trembled. "Why do you torture me like this?"

The shape seemed to consider. "You . . . have not seen true horror. Do not allow it to come into being. Go, Caruwyn, reopen the path to endless night and set our kind free at last. It is a power entrusted to you alone. Release me from my cold grave. How I long to see you with my own eyes once again."

The youth looked up with large eyes, unbelieving of what he had just heard. Would unharnessing the night and the path through the stars bring back the dead as well?

"I . . ." he began unevenly.

"Hurry," the phantom whispered.

While the demon was distracted, D struggled to break the weak spell binding him. Its invisible strings snapped to set him loose before he plunged forward unhesitating with his sword. The blade sliced through the illusion, shattering Meier's startled form like glass. The shards chinked to the floor and melted to cloudy smoke.

Before the billowing ribbons could band together, D shook Caruwyn. "It wasn't real. Do you understand that?"

The youth looked up into the hunter's concerned eyes and forced himself to nod. He had seen the illusion break and known, but it shook him up all the same. That likeness was frighteningly accurate right down to the minutest details. But it was what had been said which haunted him, and he fiercely wondered if it was true. Manx had never spoken of such things before. Was it just a distraction, a trick to bring him back under his control?

Manx's obsidian spirit remained swirling over the floor, occasionally expelling sounds like the hisses of cats. All at once, the murk spiraled into the shape of a massive roiling snake and slithered toward them.

The two vampiric descendents braced themselves to move away from the imposing shape, but it had moved too swiftly. The serpent swept one blurred circle around D's feet and disappeared completely.

Caruwyn opened his mouth to voice his astonishment when he looked at his elder, but his voice froze when D went rigid. The vampire hunter's eyes were open wide in mute surprise, his mouth falling open slightly in horror. The youth watched as several tremors wracked the man's body, as though D were trying vainly to vomit.

Subconsciously, the albino looked to D's left hand in pleading, hoping that the parasite would do something. But the creature's face was not to be seen. The violent spasms suddenly ceased and Caruwyn's eyes settled back on the man's face.

A great sigh escaped the hunter's lips as he straightened, cocking his neck to one side with a loud crack of bones. His hand brought the sword up and sheathed it at his back before turning his strange smoky eyes to Caruwyn. The latter had never been so unnerved, nor thought it possible to be so, when he saw a cruel smirk dominate D's expressionless, narrow face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Caruwyn," the hunter said and laughed, its sound nearly throwing the youth to his knees in astonished fear.

D's laughter died at length before he rolled his neck and shoulders again. His hands ascended to smooth over his cheeks in appreciation before falling to rove his body at the torso.

Caruwyn watched this strange behavior in silent bewilderment. But when he saw D's hands finally stop and extract the twin stones from their keeping place, he could not hold his voice back.

"D, what are you doing? Please, don't," he pleaded.

But the hunter only gazed at him as he moved forward, the gems clasped loosely in an upturned palm. When the man came to a halt only a step away, Caruwyn felt his arm seized at the wrist and drawn forward. He looked down and saw the stones had been deposited into his hand. At the sight of them gleaming against his white skin, a familiar sensation began to creep through his veins. He didn't like it.

"We're all waiting for you," D said, "Do not disappoint us again."

Caruwyn realized that his elder's eyes were a shade darker than normal, but it didn't matter. He knew what had happened, as much as he desired to dismiss it for some other possibility. But before he could growl out a refusal, D's arms suddenly slipped around his waist and pulled him closer.

"My poor little princeling," the man said quietly, "do you still need more incentive?"

D's hands loosened and slid slowly up Caruwyn's back, inducing a shiver from the youth. His fine fingers trailed up the bare skin of the neck beneath them before tangling in soft white hair. The hunter's lips brushed coolly against his forehead.

Caruwyn could sense Manx's presence within every delicate brush of D's manipulated movements. It angered him and, to his dismay, singed his nerves with arousal. There was little physical evidence of the demon's presence, but for the hunter's eyes. Even D's voice had remained unchanged, serving to fuel his swell of emotions. Both hands slid sensually over his scalp as the hunter pressed their hips together.

"You'll never be left unsatisfied again, Caruwyn. You'll have what you've coveted for so long and more. Wouldn't you like to share your glory with your father as well? You can have both." D's body swayed gently against him, causing the youth's skin to heat.

Caruwyn's rage and lust battled for ground. He knew now that Manx was lying, but the spell inflicted over him was undeniably seductive and difficult to arrest for its falsity. His head swooned as that foreign yet terribly familiar sense of power and importance trudged through his body. With the last of his willful strength, he pleaded silently to whatever benign spirits that happened to be near.

What it was exactly, he could not say, but some force within raised his hands and pushed the demon-possessed hunter away. The voice that accompanied the action sounded strange in his ears. "It will be done."

D smiled and made no further movements.

Caruwyn gazed down at the softly glowing gems in his hand; its steadiness disturbed him. As he turned, he found he could not bring himself to look into the dhampire's face, as much as he ached to. He knew what he wanted to see would be tainted, a stranger's mask that he very recently wore himself. Sadness and remorse flecked the outskirts of his bitter rage. But he would not give way to defeat. He had promised to protect D, and he would do just that.

Ruby eyes snatched the proximity of the silver sword lying forgotten on the floor as Caruwyn walked away from the amused demon. As he stopped briefly to pick it up, he heard the hunter shuffle behind him. Ignoring this, Caruwyn held the jewels out and carefully released them, watching their slow dance begin in midair. He could almost feel Manx's smug smile.

The albino smiled weakly as well, despite himself. The gems would not work in the way the demon desired if he had no will for them to do so. Though Manx had no knowledge of this, he could still manipulate Caruwyn to harness that willpower. That would not happen, ever again.

Holding the blade out like a channel, Caruwyn closed his eyes. He remembered his father's kind face as he grew up in the City of Night, the bittersweet taste of chisuna wine pressed from delicate silver petals, the feeling of the smooth gravestone that he had carved. He recalled his arrogant dislike of the vampire hunter in those cold winter months before his ice melted to overflowing. The memories hurt, yet, given the choice, he would not trade them for anything else. His existence was meant to be sour, but he was thankful for the things that had lain in his path. He had found his one great happiness.

The stones' swirling pace began to speed up as the youth opened his eyes. Without giving warning to the being at his back, Caruwyn lashed his sword out, guided by the aim from that aiding force to smash his lineage's gem to pieces. The jewel cracked to split the silence and fell like tiny sapphires to the floor.

Manx voiced his outrage through D's lips, a harsh growl, "What are you doing?!"

Caruwyn turned slowly, his face perfectly composed. "Come with me, Manx. Your long journey through the ages ends here. Sleep your infernal sleep once again."

For a brief moment, the youth allowed his face to relax as he gazed into the hunter's eyes. "Thank you, D," he said painfully soft, "Your memory will stay with me for all eternity."

Grasping the hilt of his sword with both hands high above his head, Caruwyn plunged the blade deep into his chest, instantly striking his heart.

D heard the demon scream out with his lips, or perhaps it was his own screaming. He watched with two sets of eyes as Caruwyn crumpled to the floor, a pool of deep crimson spreading beneath him like unfurling satin.

The dhampire fell to his knees, his body shaking with waves of revulsion as the demon forcefully wrenched itself away. It felt as though every one of his bones and muscles had been stretched out and snapped disjointedly back into his body. A cry as deep and dark as an ancient ocean of churning black waves assailed his mind as Manx lost hold on both the bodies into which he had split his existence. D was left to fight those black tides in the demon's faded absence.

When the shrouding haze lifted away, D found that he had crawled to Caruwyn's side, his hands already stained to the wrists with the albino's blood. He barely felt the tears spilling with abandon down his face. Barely felt the moans escape his tight throat.

D lifted Caruwyn's head and cradled it, unbelieving of what had just happened. Part of him waited for the albino to move, to speak. But deep within, he knew that Caruwyn had wanted this. He had done it for the sake of the world, but more for D's sake. The demon and the threat had been taken with his life.

With burning eyes, D gazed at the youth's face, marveling sadly at the faint smile lingering on the child's lips. That encompassing weight of pure sorrow that he had tasted long ago in the rainstorm at the base of the great willow tree returned to him, and he understood its significance with bitterness. D embraced the lifeless body beneath him and lost himself in that black despair for the second time.

* * *

The hunter's consciousness aroused with the parasite's beckoning. The body in his arms had grown cold as he lifted his head away and looked around. The Barbarois hall remained empty.

"D, come on. Let's get out of here," the entity said quietly. It knew what its host was going through and shared in that remorse itself, a feeling all too rare, but none the more welcome. It had sensed something like this would happen, but it would never remind D of that fact again. Its host was born to be the loneliest creature in the world.

D studied Caruwyn's face for some time before standing with the youth's limp body in his arms. As he stood, his eye caught the gleaming blue of the last remaining jewel forged from the City of Night. Numbly, he bent to retrieve it, squeezing it tightly as if he intended to crack it with his bare hands. Without a word he assumed his once impenetrable mask of indifference before leaving the great cold hall through doors that gently parted at his approach.

Outside it was night, the sky a rich black backdrop to the hideous glittering stars. D stared up at them; they had never before seemed as much as the watching eyes of lost angels.

* * *


	19. Epilogue

**Dissolution of Arms**

By Eerie

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

Scented winds blew over the grassy hills full of subtle melodies with the rushing of the river. The moon shone radiant and full just above the crest of the mountains in the distance, washing the landscape in soft silver light. Blooming flowers swayed contently with each caressing stir around them. Summer had come once again. 

The vampire hunter sat on horseback, gazing over the majestic land painted in twilight colors. The breezes and shivering leaves above lulled him into a kind of somber trance; even the parasite had considerately fallen into a hush.

It had been one year to the day since Caruwyn's passing, and D wished the youth could be there to share in the glorious view, for he knew that his bright hungry eyes would adore it.

There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of the young man. It was with fondness that D chose to remember him, and he was content to keep it that way. Even still, that lingering sadness would come, though he would never let it show. Yet, since that day, D had ceased to dream.

Gently nudging his heels into the mechanical steed's sides, the hunter descended the hill to the wide valley below. As he made his way to the fragrant pear tree, a flock of birds that had been sleeping in its boughs startled and flew away, filling the air with feathers.

D halted before it and dismounted, breathing in its heady scent. The feathers floated down slowly and settled upon the grave at the tree's base as D stood over it. It was unmarked, and no passerby would even recognize it for what it was. The hunter had not wanted to chance its being disturbed. But it needed no marker for him to remember where it lay.

Kneeling down, D picked up one of the downy feathers and ran his fingers over it, recalling the way Caruwyn had carved the small sparrow in astounding likeness to the real creatures. "Do the birds keep you company?" he asked quietly. He regretted voicing his question at all, for the sound of it brought that sadness back to him. Its weight upon his spirit left him weary.

The dhampire stretched himself out to lie next to the slightly raised mound of earth, allowing the night sounds and the steed's soft munching to lull him into a light slumber.

A soft voice calling his name stirred him soon afterward, and D opened his eyes. A figure in white reclined against the trunk of the pear tree to his side. D sat up and looked into familiar ruby eyes.

Caruwyn sat with a small blade in one hand and a rounded piece of wood in the other. He held his left hand out to give D a closer look of what it held.

"I thought I should do another one, but it's not quite finished yet," the young man said and smiled. He motioned with his blade to the ground beside him.

D stood and moved closer before lowering himself beside the pale figure. Caruwyn glanced over at him with a concerned look.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Are you a ghost?" D found himself asking rather mindlessly.

Caruwyn laughed lightly, its sound sending pleasant shimmers down the dhampire's spine. He turned his attention back to his work but did not answer. He said instead, "I've always loved the birds most. What about you?"

"Yes," D answered quietly.

"Their freedom in the skies with those wonderful wings," the albino continued, "it used to make me envious. But you know, we all have wings of our own kind."

D continued to gaze at the young man, not quite sure how to answer.

"D," the youth said a bit quieter, pausing his work, "you haven't lost yours." Caruwyn let his eyes fall into the hunter's.

They searched each other in that manner for a long while before the youth turned away and slid the thin blade through the wood again.

The dhampire simply watched the youth carve. He felt drawn into the graceful motions of the skilled hands, their narrow bones and fine nails. And for a while, he was content to relax in Caruwyn's presence, forgetting the hundreds of questions he had once longed to ask. Before he knew it, the project was completed.

Caruwyn set the blade down and handed the finished product to the hunter at his side. D turned it over in his hands, marveling. Though he had watched many of its details being formed, it seemed as though he had never seen it before.

"D," the youth said as he leaned closer, "I haven't lost my wings either. Please, don't let your spirit fade."

The hunter turned away from the carving to look at Caruwyn. His eyes drank in that achingly smooth face, as beautiful as a pale night. Slowly he allowed his eyes to close against the light as he leaned closer to the youth's soft mouth. A warm breath of wind met his lips instead and D opened his eyes.

He was lying beside the grave in the same position as when he had fallen asleep. The moon ascended higher above the mountains and the stars seemed to have brightened.

So he had only dreamed it.

But as D sat up, he felt something hard clenched in his hand. Looking down, he discovered a small wooden sparrow with tiny eyes gazing back up at him. The lines carved into its body were masterful, giving the inanimate carving a strange sort of life, as if it were about to leap from his hand and take to the sky at any moment.

D stood and gazed at the sculpture, a small smile breaking his indifferent mask. A strange sense of relief came over him as he held it. Clutching the bird tight, he strode to his grazing horse before mounting. Casting one last look upon Caruwyn's grave, D drove his heels into the beast's flanks and tore swiftly over the hillsides beneath the moonlight, his mantle flying up high behind him.

The End

* * *

A/N: Well it's finally done! As elating as it is to finish it, I'm also a little sad that it's over. For everyone who has taken the time to leave me such kind reviews, I give you my most sincere thanks. This story was often challenging to write, and I was so happy to hear that you all enjoyed reading it. I'm sorry it took me so long to put new chapters up, but hopefully I didn't break the story's flow too much. As always, I'm happy to hear what you think so please drop me a line or leave a review.

My special thanks to Kitala, who has been my faithful reviewer for every chapter since I started this back in February . Also to the lovely and talented AlexandriaH for her relentless support. Thank you all! 8/24/03


End file.
